


(sing with me) A Song of Conquest and Fate

by Hyeyu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Historical Fantasy, Identity Issues, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyeyu/pseuds/Hyeyu
Summary: Quite honestly, Tooru still expected this so-called ‘temporary truce’ to come down to that - another bloody skirmish, much like all the fights against Aobajousai had been. More lives lost, more damage sustained. Aobajousai was unyielding, a blunt hammer of brute force that had smashed itself blindly against Seijou’s armies far too many times to count.Still, now there was an official document that bore the seal of Aobajousai’s crest, tucked snugly in Yahaba’s pack. On it was a call for a ceasefire, one long enough to discuss the possibility of a truce between the two warring kingdoms. It had been an uncharacteristically diplomatic gesture, one that Tooru felt compelled to meet in equal measure, despite every instinct screaming at him not to.When Seijou receives a missive from Aobajousai to discuss a potential peace, its emperor Oikawa Tooru could not have foreseen the series of events that would follow.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fxvixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fxvixen/gifts).



> So, when I first started planning out this gift for [fxvixen](http://fxvixen.tumblr.com/), I was really, honestly, 100% going to do a modern-AU spin on a dating trope. Instead, this kind of happened. I'm so sorry, Hope - You asked for 'mutual pining' and 'cuddling' and 'AUs'; somehow, my brain took that and went a little wild. (,,꒪꒫꒪,,) I really hope (no pun intended) you enjoy reading this nonetheless! 
> 
> Quick warning: there are brief references to parental abuse in a certain character's past. It's not explicit or detailed, but it is significant in said character's development.
> 
> Title comes from 'Lost in Thoughts All Alone' from Fire Emblem Fates.

“Heika, it’s time.”

The man in question turned his head to see Hanamaki, head just inside his tent flap. Hazel eyes closed, squeezed tight enough to ache a little before reopening. “Already?”

“‘Fraid so.” Hanamaki’s look was keen. “Do your ribs still hurt?”

They did, beneath the bandages binding them tight to keep his posture as straight as possible. So did his hands, for that matter, the freshly-formed blisters hidden beneath the ornamental gloves Yahaba had helped him pull on earlier. But Hanamaki had been his friend and retainer long enough to know better than to ask about Tooru’s hands.

Any other time, Tooru would have whined a little, exaggerating the extent of the injuries to ease the almost invisible worry lines creasing the corners of his retainer’s eyes. But there was no place for that today, on the charred grounds of a newly ripped-up battlefield, perched on the threshold of an event that would be recorded in the history books of Seijou.

“They’ll be fine,” Tooru answered instead, terse as he got up from where he had been hunched over on the small bed roll. “Are they already there?”

“Watari says they are.”

So Seijou would look tardy then. Tooru gritted his teeth in annoyance, biting back the spasm of pain that lanced briefly across his torso. “Well, it wouldn’t do for us to provide them with more fodder to mock us with. Is the air escort ready?”

“The rest are already mounted and waiting to leave. It’s just the two of us left.”

Nodding, Tooru tugged the aquamarine haori back up from where it was slipping off his shoulders and readjusted the circlet perched atop damp and dusty hair. The formal wear of court stood out like a sore thumb this far from the city; against the scuffs and dents of his war-worn armor, their glittery flamboyance looked even stranger.

Still, formalities were formalities, and Tooru was no stranger to those.

Takeru was waiting in the open field by their army’s makeshift barracks, already saddled and impatient, given how it was raking large claws against the ground. Chuckling, Tooru reached up to stroke its leathery head. “At least one of us is enthusiastic about all this, huh?”

The wyvern, easily dwarfing the winged horses waiting alongside him, screeched in response, nuzzling into the soft glove. Sliding onto its back was practically second nature by now, even with the added inconvenience of injuries. Sword strapped securely against his side, Tooru tugged on Takeru’s reins, turning it to face the rest of his escort party. Theirs would be a completely airborne delegation; as one of Seijou’s strongest lines of offense, it would make an impressive impact upon entry. More importantly, the ability to take to the air would provide a quick retreat for Seijou, should the negotiations devolve into a battle.

“We cannot completely accept that Aobajousai is truly willing to forge some sort of truce,” Hanamaki had argued at the hasty war council assembled to discuss the missive that had arrived unexpectedly within their camp only hours prior. “For all we know, this could be an elaborate trap to draw Heika into their playing field. Not a terribly likely possibility, but we cannot take the chance of assuming they’re being sincere in their requests to parley.”

“That is true,” Kuroo acquiesced. “I wouldn’t put it past them. Yet, it is a chance that Seijou regrettably cannot afford to dismiss. Like it or not, this war is draining us; our resources are growing scarce, aren’t they?”

“They are.” Watari’s forehead mirrored Tooru’s own as he shuffled through several sheets of parchment. “It doesn’t matter if we win each fight going forward; Seijou is already on the losing end. Crops and produces are at an all-time low, and the only viable trade route to obtain more of these is currently being monopolized by Aobajousai. Granted, our mines are still operating at maximum efficiency, but the people cannot eat metal, Heika.”

Quite honestly, Tooru still expected this so-called ‘temporary truce’ to come down to that - another bloody skirmish, much like all the fights against Aobajousai had been. More lives lost, more damage sustained. Aobajousai was unyielding, a blunt hammer of brute force that had smashed itself blindly against Seijou’s armies far too many times to count.

Still, now there was an official document that bore the seal of Aobajousai’s crest, tucked snugly in Yahaba’s pack. On it was a call for a ceasefire, one long enough to discuss the possibility of a truce between the two warring kingdoms. It had been an uncharacteristically diplomatic gesture, one that Tooru felt compelled to meet in equal measure, despite every instinct screaming at him not to.

“Are we good to go?” Tooru waited for Kenma’s small nod before he slapped Takeru’s flank, lowering his torso as the wyvern launched itself into the air, its screeches echoing all around him as the rest of the party followed suit.

This high up, the ruins of their latest battleground was a dull splotch amongst the greenery of the forest surrounding it, barren and brown. Tooru turned away from the sight, urging Takeru to fly faster towards the agreed meeting site. It wasn’t very hard to find, nor far away, glowing with the torches the Aobajousai party had set around its perimeter.

Still, the dusk was fading into the obsidian hue of night, and Tooru had an impression to make. Blue flames danced in one uplifted palm, the silk of the gloves already ashes scattered in the emperor’s wake. _The gift, finally awakened,_ his father had said, laughing in elation when the divine fire had first burst out of Tooru, scorching the skin off his left thigh. The elfire, a boon that ran in the bloodline of those deemed worthy to sit on the throne. A curse, one that had left the skin on Tooru’s hands shredded daily, blood staining silk and linen until the boy could push the fire out of his blood through his flesh with but a thought.

But this was not the time nor place for nostalgic reflection. A couple of meters closer… Tooru hurled the flame at the closest torch, conjured up another tongue of fire and repeated it for the other torches in the area until they were all bonfires on sticks, purple light licking at the darkening sky. The Aobajousai soldiers stationed outside the large tent startled, their horses rearing in fright as Hanamaki’s whoops were echoed by the rest of Seijou’s delegation where they circled the area, scoping out the best place to land.

By the time claws and hooves touched soil, Aobajousai’s cavalry units were under control once more, standing at attention as their riders surveyed the newcomers with thinly-veiled animosity. The Aobajousai emperor was nowhere to be seen, likely already seated inside. Clearly the commotion wasn’t enough to get the man himself to come out and investigate the source of the noise. Tooru swallowed his ire at the slight - either Aobajousai lacked even the most basic of manners to greet their guests upon arrival, or the glaring absence was some sort of power-play meant to impress their purported superiority over Seijou. Neither boded well for what was to come.

Gracefully dismounting, Tooru kept his face impassive through the pain that flared up his side anew, handing Takeru’s reins over to Kenma. A small nod to Hanamaki and Yahaba immediately summoned them to stand at attention behind him, the latter holding out a new glove with a longsuffering expression. Tooru pulled it over his hand in efficient movements before he started striding towards the tent. _Show no weakness_ , his father had been fond of drilling into him. _Expose even the slightest chink in your armor on the battlefield, and you’re asking to be killed._

If there was anything that old bastard had ever gotten correct, Tooru supposed he could grant him this.

As anticipated, the Aobajousai emperor was already seated on the tatami mat inside, his two selected retainers kneeling on his left and right. Unlike Tooru, the other man had made little effort to clean his battle-worn armor, mud still dulling the metallic patina of the gauntlets and heavy dragon helm obscuring his face from view.

“Seijou no Tennō.” The salutation was curt, if correctly formal. Tooru waited, deliberately silent until the other man reluctantly got to his feet, his retainers following suit. Only then did he tip his head in acknowledgement.

“Aobajousai no Tennō.” The other emperor was much larger up close, and taller than Tooru, to the latter’s irritation. It’s the armor, he told himself. Anyone would look taller in that ridiculous helmet the other man wore at seemingly all times.

“Incapable of a quiet entrance, I see.” The man to the right of the Aobajousai no Tennō snorted quietly, but Tooru didn’t shift his gaze from the eyes of the emperor’s face plate. Instead, he allowed his smile to stretch just a little too wide in the way Hanamaki constantly referred to as his ‘baby-devouring’ expression.

“Oh, so you did notice. I simply didn’t think your paltry torches were doing a good enough job, and thought to aid you in that regard.”

“They were well enough. Still, I suppose Seijou must put on some kind of display, no matter how trivial and ineffectual.”

“And Aobajousai are so weighed down by their troubles, they find it difficult to stand upon ceremony.”

The hollow quality of Aobajousai no Tennō’s voice couldn’t mask the derision dripping in his every word. “We stand for those we consider worthy of respect.”

“Careful, Aobajousai no Tennō.” Tooru’s smile didn’t waver. “I become less and less inclined to hear you out the longer we pursue this conversation.”

“Heika.” The man on the emperor’s right again; despite the deferential address, there was a warning embedded in the low tone. Oikawa’s eyes cut to him briefly; a well-built man, with hair worn short and surprisingly deep green eyes in a square-jawed face. Standing, he was slightly shorter than his emperor, the broadness of his shoulders evident even in the smaller _dō_ chestplate he was clad in. “The negotiation.”

“Ah.” The Aobajousai emperor made a small gesture - the universal invitation to sit. Tooru remained standing just a little too long before sinking into a cross-legged position on the mats. The other man followed suit, the plates of his armor clinking together lightly as he adjusted himself.

“We,” Not ‘I’, Tooru noted with some interest, “have invited you here to propose a peace treaty between Seijou and Aobajousai.”

Tooru had predicted as much when the messenger had first arrived in the Seijou camp. He waved a hand, deliberately flattening his tone of voice. “You presume much to think that I would even consider such a treaty. Seijou fought its wars to break free of Aobajousai’s clutches centuries ago, and now you assume we would be willing to parley that easily?”

“Surely-”

“Take off that ridiculous helmet. Or are you afraid I’ll see the fear in your eyes?”

A beat, then Aobajousai no Tennō pulled the helm off his head in one smooth motion, setting it to the side. Sleepy-looking eyes met Tooru’s in acknowledgement of the challenge the Seijou emperor had thrown down as a long-fingered hand ran fingers through messy hair. “Tell me: do you see any fear, Seijou no Tennō?”

Tooru inclined his head. “I believe you were about to elaborate on why you think I would agree to your proposal.”

“You must be aware the Shiratorizawa forces are approaching our lands from the West.”

Tooru pursed his lips. The reports he had received from the western-most borders of Seijou corresponded with what Aobajousai no Tennō said. The troop numbers, if the scouts were to be believed, were alarmingly large, enough to merit advanced preparation in anticipation of an oncoming war with Shiratorizawa.

Preparation which, admittedly, Tooru had squandered to some extent on this latest skirmish against Aobajousai. He resisted the urge to grimace. _Show no weakness._

Aobajousai no Tennō was still waiting for a response. Tooru blinked, slow and deliberate, leaning back in a practised show of nonchalance. “We know of them, yes. Measures have been put into place to deal with them should they move into Seijou lands.”

“They intend to seize both Seijou and Aobajousai. Such is the information that my men were able to obtain.” Aobajousai no Tennō leant forward, hands splayed on his knees. “You are a proud man, Seijou no Tennō, but surely even you cannot deny that Shiratorizawa no Tennō’s armies as they stand on the borders far outnumber either of ours.”

On account of our kingdoms being divided, the other monarch didn’t say, but Tooru felt the accusation as keenly as if he’d shouted it. His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps your army is ill-equipped to deal with the coming onslaught, but ours-”

Aobajousai no Tennō’s laugh was mirthless. “You can barely meet us toe-to-toe on this field, and you expect to be able to handle Shiratorizawa no Tennō’s men? Even your winged menagerie will do you no favours in the face of the horde he brings.”

“Your cavalry will fare no better from ours,” Tooru countered, rapier-quick.

The other man’s sigh was heavy. “Yes, we can admit as much. Remain as we are, and we both risk being subsumed by the legion Shiratorizawa no Tennō has brought over the ocean with him. Yet we may have a card we can play -  he will not be expecting a unified attack from both Seijou and Aobajousai.”

Behind him, Tooru heard Yahaba stifle a exclamation of surprise, one Tooru himself echoed internally. Aobajousai no Tennō continued, cool and calm. “But for that, we must come to an agreement.”

Tooru narrowed his eyes. “You are proposing a temporary truce.”

“If necessary, so be it. But Aobajousai is tired of our constant war against each other. We would be amenable to any discussions that may at least place our two kingdoms in a mutually beneficial long-term arrangement.”

“A paltry attempt at diplomacy,” Tooru sneered derisively. “Do you think us fool enough for fall for your low-level tricks?”

Metal plates shifted against each other as Aobajousai no Tennō stiffened, lips pressing into a thin line. The man seated to his left looked openly hostile, a growl rising in his throat as one hand twitched towards the lance laid by his side. “You bas-”

“ _Heika._ ” The retainer on the right again, the warning in his voice more pronounced this time around. That was twice now he’d spoken out of turn without being reprimanded by his ruler, Tooru observed with growing curiosity. Interesting. Was he perhaps a noble in the Aobajousai council, one with enough influence that the emperor could not raise a hand towards him? But surely no noble would willingly lower themselves to acting as a retainer, when they could be warlords or council members.

Whoever he was, the chiding worked again: Aobajousai no Tennō’s shoulders dropped slightly, even as the contempt unspooled itself into a frown. “This is no trick, Seijou no Tennō. We are serious in our desire to at least have our kingdoms on civil terms.”

“This is not the first time Shiratorizawa has loomed as a threat over our heads,” Tooru countered.

“No, it is not. But it is the first time Shiratorizawa no Tennō has been serious in making a play for the East kingdoms.” Aobajousai no Tennō’s eyes were keen. “You are no fool: you know he will aim for Seijou first. His interest in claiming your lands for his own has been no secret these last few years.”

Palms slammed against the bamboo of the tatami mats, even as their impact sent a fresh wave of agony rippling up Tooru’s abdomen. “ _That fool shall not have Seijou._ ”

“He won’t,” The Aobajousai emperor agreed blandly. “But only if we act together to overcome him before he devours us. Again, we are more than ready to parley if you are willing.”

“You cannot surely expect us to negotiate right now under duress.”

“Of course not,” Aobajousai no Tennō demurred. “We propose a period of three weeks for both sides to consider the terms they might want to bring to the discussion table. As a show of good faith, we will exchange our tactician for yours.” A quirk of a finger, and a man stepped out from behind Aobajousai no Tennō, face impassive as long fingers curled around a thick tome. “Akaashi will be more than qualified to act as a consultant as to what we may or may not agree to in future discussions.”

Tooru eyed the man. “A tactician by name, perhaps an assassin by trade.”

“Rest assured, Seijou no Tennō.” Akaashi’s voice was even-tempered and calm, a little too much so. Clearly, he had been briefed regarding the exchange that was to take place. “I harbor no such ill will. Like my emperor, I too strive to barter for peace.”

“I still don’t like this.” Tooru’s gaze cut towards where Aobajousai no Tennō sat. “I will concede that a ceasefire is necessary to halt the encroaching threat of Shiratorizawa. Yet you are too prepared with your suggestion, which puts Seijou at a disadvantage, however you look at it.”

Aobajousai no Tennō raised an eyebrow. “What would you have us do then?”

“I will not accept your tactician - he’s likely to have already been briefed too thoroughly over what Aobajousai should seize from Seijou.” A minute wince from Akaashi, and Tooru smirked. Bingo. “Instead, I will have…him.”

The man Tooru pointed at didn’t notice the gesture immediately. None of Aobajousai did, apparently, and they stiffened almost simultaneously as they followed the direction of Tooru’s finger and registered who the Seijou emperor had chosen.

Aobajousai no Tennō’s reply was instantaneous, the word practically punched out of him. “No.”

“No?” It was Tooru’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “After all the pretty talk about doing anything for diplomacy? I must say, Aobajousai has impressed me by how quickly they betray their own words.”

“We _do_ want peace!”

“Apparently not enough for you to surrender a mere retainer. Tell me, Aobajousai no Tennō,” Tooru allowed himself to lean forward slightly, voice mocking, “What then the price of your so-called ‘peace’?”

“If a retainer is what you want, then you can have Kyoutani instead.” The man on the Aobajousai emperor’s left scowled, but bowed his head in acquiescence. Tooru shook his head, making a clicking sound with his tongue.

“I will not settle for anyone other than the one I’ve selected. If you want to negotiate a peace treaty, you will trade me that man.”

“He has served the throne for years-”

“As has Hanamaki, my retainer.” The pink-haired man glanced at Tooru, his face screwing up in distaste. “It will be a loss keenly felt on our side to lose him even for a few days, but such is the level of concession Seijou is willing to make. Or, if you’d prefer, you may have our tactician, another veteran in our ways and practices.” A swish of robes told Tooru Kuroo had stepped up behind him. “It’s not that difficult a choice, Aobajousai no Tennō, if you are truly being sincere.”

“I will not-”

“Heika.” The gruff tone sliced through any protest the Aobajousai emperor might have had on the tip of his tongue. “I will go.”

“What?” Aobajousai no Tennō looked flummoxed, the shock unhidden as he visibly scrambled to pull his bearings back together. A strange reaction to what should be a fairly insignificant decision, Tooru mused. Perhaps the emperor’s lover then?  “But, you can’t! I won’t-’

“Heika, I may be but a lowly retainer,” the man's voice was steady. “But if they should kill me, they risk war anew with Aobajousai forces. And they cannot afford to do that.”

Standing up, he moved, each step deliberate as he took the few steps towards where Tooru sat watching the spectacle unfold with poorly-hidden curiosity. Then, he slowly sank to his knees before the Seijou emperor and bowed, touching his forehead to the mat. “I put myself at your mercy, Seijou no Tennō, to be commanded at your will.”

Tooru nodded, pleased at the courteous salute. “Very well…”

“Your humble servant is addressed as ‘Tanaka’.”

A false name; here was a man brazen enough to lie to an emperor. Curiouser and curiouser yet. Still, perhaps that was to be expected to some extent. Plus, Tooru had gotten what he wanted after all.

“Very well, Tanaka. Seijou will be interested to hear your input regarding any policies or resources we might negotiate for. Aobajousai no Tennō, who of mine will you accept into your care for these few weeks?”

Aobajousai no Tennō’s face was grim. “I will take your retainer in turn.”

Rising smoothly, Hanamaki turned long enough to mime a low bow towards Tooru, a move that allowed the emperor to see the flash of reproachful disgust that flashed across his features before he knelt before the Aobajousai ruler, moving in the same motions that Tanaka had earlier. The bangles he had pulled on prior to the meeting rang softly throughout the tent; coupled with the silk draping artfully across his arms and torso, it was an arresting sight.

“Hanamaki is a skilled fighter, and is the most talented dancer Seijou possesses. He has been privy to our strategies and war councils - you should find him a most helpful aid, should you be sincere in your wish to parley with Seijou. But,” Tooru paused for effect, “one mark on him, and we will return it a hundred times over.”

“The same could be said of Tanaka.” The name was awkward in Aobajousai no Tennō’s mouth. “Only we will repay the slight a thousand times harder.”

Tooru suppressed an unimpressed snort, eyeing his temporary retainer blatantly enough for his disdain to be apparent. To his credit, Tanaka didn’t flinch under the scrutiny, hands locked on his knees as he stared straight ahead. “I believe our business here today is concluded then. When shall we meet to negotiate in earnest?”

“If you’re amenable, we will reconverge here exactly three weeks from now.” Aobajousai no Tennō pushed himself to his feet. If Tooru hadn’t been watching closely, he would have missed the quick flash of the other emperor’s eyes over to Tanaka once more.

“I suppose it will have to do.” Tooru stood as well. “Until that day, Aobajousai no Tennō. We will both have much to think about and consider.”

“Yes.”  Aobajousai no Tennō’s gaze was unreadable “We do indeed.”

\---

“Heika,” Yahaba said later, in the privacy of Tooru’s tent as he helped his liege remove his armor. Tanaka remained outside, posted as a sentry; Yahaba, loyal and protective soul he was, had refused point-blank to allow the foreigner to so much as stick a toe into the tent. “Are you sure what you’ve agreed to is wise? Not that I’m questioning your judgement,” he hastened to add. “But the people of Seijou will not take it well. Nor will most of the council."

“What’s done is done.” Tooru grimaced as the armor grazed his wound, causing it to sting anew. “I don’t like it either, but we can’t deny the truth in Aobajousai no Tennō’s words - Seijou is in no position to defend against Shiratorizawa’s full force should it descend upon us, expected or not.”

“But an alliance with Aobajousai?” Yahaba looked doubtful. “They were thirsty for our blood just a few days ago - that gash in your side is testament to that. For them to sing such a drastically different tune so quickly… forgive me for saying so, but it seems suspicious.”

“And I don’t blame you for it. Still, you heard Watari - our resources are starting to hit an alarming new low. Even with Shiratorizawa aside, we can’t afford to keep up these constant battles against Aobajousai either. It may be to our benefit that Aobajousai initiated this would-be treaty.”

The retainer sniffed as he tugged the final thigh guard off Tooru’s legs. “Either way, I’ll be sure to keep an extra-watchful eye on that Tanaka - if he so much as _breathes_ in the wrong direction, I’ll ram my staff down his throat, peace be damned.”

“Ah, Yahaba-chan,” Tooru’s chuckle hitched as he gingerly sat down on his makeshift pallet. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably charge into battle and die like the fool king you are. Oikawa-sama,” Yahaba added as an afterthought. “No, don’t lie down yet - I’ll get Kunimi to fetch more bandages, maybe a numbing draught. We need to rebind that side of yours and rewrap those fingers before you rest if you intend to fly back to the capital tomorrow. Which we both know you will, don’t even try to lie to me.”

“Why not get Tanaka to get the items? He’s just outside.”

“I’m not going to run the risk of it being poisoned before it lands in my hands,” Yahaba said ominously. “Plus, it’s equally possible he may never return from such an errand, given the ah, _enthusiastic_ regard some of our men have towards Aobajousai. Then I will be very disappointed.”

“Disappointed because he’d be dead, or because you wouldn’t get your supplies?”

“Both. Don’t laugh, Oikawa-sama - you’re going to reopen those stitches and I’m too tired to sew you back together neatly again.”

\---

Tanaka was, in all aspects, an unexpected man.

His utility in acting as Aobajousai’s representative was undeniable, his attitude and approaches surprisingly less hostile and aggressive than Tooru had anticipated. The man was brusque, blunt even, but also honest, no grudge staining his voice or perspective as he argued or elaborated on his rationale behind his opinions.

But these semi-good qualities were offset by him being the most mule-headed, stubborn being Tooru had ever had the mistake of meeting.

“You cannot be serious.” Tooru leaned forward, eyes narrowed in incredulity. “Surely you cannot be suggesting that we simply surrender the Jiyūshinu mines to Aobajousai?”

“‘Trading’ does not hold the same meaning as ‘surrender’, Heika.”

And that was the other thing about Tanaka that was intriguing occasionally, and absolutely infuriating every other time. His actions, his words, even the way he moved through what should be standard protocol for someone of his station, were erratic, with his manners lapsing more often than not. Sometimes he would forget to bow; other times, he bowed too quickly. The polite deference to Tooru seemed slapped onto his statements, taped on as an genuine afterthought.

In negotiations, it was fairly clear that he had little, if any deference to Tooru’s sovereignty. Even now, the other man didn’t budge, crossing his arms as he met Tooru’s glare head-on. The effect was impressive, given the size of said arms, but Tooru was too incensed to appreciate them properly. They had been semi-distracting the first time the two of them had disagreed, but disagreement was becoming a frequent occurrence in their attempts at any sort of treaty discussion.

“It might as well be, for what you’re asking me to agree to!”

Tanaka’s eyes flashed beneath furrowed brows Tooru was starting to associate with the other man’s ire. “It’s not an unreasonable deal. The fields Aobajousai would provide in exchange is not without its value. It is good land for farming-”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s ‘good’.” Tooru’s tone practically dripped derision.“You expect me to give one of Seijou’s largest and most productive mines for a few feet of ‘good’ land. Your ‘requests’ are becoming more and more unreasonable, and I find my patience with your madness ever receding.”

“A few - Hiyokuna Tochi is _not a few feet_.” Tanaka surged to his feet, knuckles white in the fists that he slammed on the table. “There must have been tutors who taught you how to count as a child!”

“I’m not sure they taught _you-_ ”

“Heika.” Kuroo’s smooth voice sliced through the building confrontation. “I hate to interrupt, but I believe you have a scheduled visit to the border to oversee the installation of the new guards following the temporary arrangement we have with Aobajousai. It will not do for you to be late at arguably the first publicly diplomatic gesture between our two kingdoms.”

Releasing his breath slowly, Tooru rose from his seat, not breaking eye contact with Tanaka. “I’ll leave today’s discussion in your hands then, Tettsun. Don’t agree to anything I wouldn’t agree to.”

“You wound me, Heika - have I ever done such a thing?”

“You have,” Tooru retorted without any real sting as he tugged at the sleeves of his kimono, readjusting them so they fell straight and shimmering past his wrists. “Why I haven’t sentenced you to death for insubordination is beyond me.”

“Because I’m too useful to the throne,” Kuroo replied easily. “Now, go on - your clothes are fine, your hair is cute, you look suitably imposing. I’ll update you later as to our negotiations here for your approval.”

Tooru tossed his head in the way that he knew made his hair bounced attractively as he swanned towards the entrance of the hall. Without looking, he knew Tanaka’s teeth were grinding against each other again at this superfluous display. Good. “Don’t make deals I wouldn’t make, Tettsun. The dungeons are very cold this time of the year.”

The door closed on Kuroo’s snort and Tooru allowed himself a long exhale, expelling as much pent-up stress as he could even while he hurried outside. Takeru was already waiting for him, making happy little croaks as Watari pulled his winged pegasus into a bowing position.

“Heika, you’re just in time.” Watari discreetly peered behind his emperor. “Not taking Tanaka along? I thought you might, for diplomatic reasons.”

“Not today. Never mind our men, I might end up offing him myself.”

Watari’s chuckled was drowned out by the sound of Takeru’s wings unfurling, and Tooru all but threw himself onto his wyvern’s back, eager to shed the irritation the morning’s meeting had jabbed into him.

Over the hours that followed however, the temporary relief of escaping the negotiation talks was quickly displaced by the disputes and fights that broke out at the border, and it was a weary Tooru who dragged himself back to his bedchamber much later in the evening.

“I had to physically step into a brawl, Yahaba-chan,” he told the healer, head pillowed against the other man’s shoulder as the retainer meticulously applied salve to Tooru’s side. “That’s how bad it got.”

Yahaba’s hand paused, then resumed its task. “Well, that would explain this marvelous new bruise you’ve acquired on your left to match this gash right here. I take it some hapless idiot is currently cooling their temper in one of the cells below?”

“The man practically threw himself there and locked himself in.” Laughing hurt overly much, and Tooru settled on a humorless smile. “Prison is a much less frightening prospect than being burnt to death for the insult to my royal person.”

Tooru felt Yahaba’s sigh vibrate through his body.“You haven’t, though. Killed anyone that way, not since...” Not since the old emperor died, the retainer didn’t say aloud, but it hovered unspoken nonetheless, an ever-present ghost in the room.

“Old fears take a while to die, Yahaba-chan.” The cotton of Yahaba’s robes was scratchy and comforting. “And old sins are hard to atone for.”

“Either way, I’ll count it a blessing that whoever it was didn’t accidentally strike this hole instead. Really, Oikawa-sama, I’m a healer, not a miracle worker. And you’re not helping much, with your daily effort to rip my hard work back open.”

“The kind you always do. It’s almost healed now anyway.”

“If this is your definition of ‘healed’, then thank the heavens you’re the king, not an acolyte in training. Because I would fail you on the spot _._ ” Yahaba carefully recapped the pot of ointment. “Alright, time to wrap this up. Lie back, Oikawa-sama.”

Tooru didn’t move, soaking in Yahaba’s reassuring presence. “The tension at the border was much worse than I’d anticipated. Even the threat of my presence couldn’t cow some of the men enough to refrain from fighting in my vicinity. Aside from the soldier who accidentally punched me, I had to send two of our guards to the dungeons with him. Only the threat of fire managed to drive home my command. Imagine that - the Demon King himself having to intervene just to reinforce the point that, yes, you are no longer guarding against each other.”

A pause, then warm pressure along his back as Yahaba ran a comforting arm down it. “I can’t blame them, and honestly? Neither can you, Oikawa-sama. If old fears take awhile to die, so does prejudice. It runs deep in both sides; history has fostered it for years, and the battlefield has seared it into most of us. Acceptance isn’t something that will happen overnight.”

“I know, I know. I’m pretty, not stupid. And yet…”Tooru closed his eyes, the memory aching more than the healing injury along his side. “I heard them whisper when they thought I couldn’t hear them. They… They’re questioning if Seijou no Tennō is still right in the head. Said that perhaps the demon-fire has finally burnt away the last vestiges of sense I possess.”

Yahaba sniffed. “Idiots, all of them. People will say dumb things simply because they have mouths - unfortunately, we can’t exactly rid the kingdom of these people. But you have, and will never please everyone, Oikawa-sama. Some men will hate simply because they can, and through this peace negotiations, you have removed one easy source of it.”

“Still. Yahaba-chan, do you…” Tooru took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “Was I wrong to have accepted Aobajousai no Tennō’s offer of a potential peace? Should I have rejected it?”

Yahaba squeezed his shoulder “I can only speak for myself, but I think you did the right thing. Yes, the hatred and animosity against Aobajousai is great, and Tanaka is an idiot who apparently doesn’t know how to negotiate properly, but Aobajousai only confirmed what Kuroo had said previously anyway: Shiratorizawa _is_ a threat we can’t face alone. Our grudge will fire no arrows at Shiratorizawa’s army; our vitriol will raise no swords. We need to be able to put up a fight, and hate will have no value amidst the wreckage of a kingdom.”

“At this point, I’m not even sure if that peace will come about. You’ve been at a few of our discussions with Tanaka, right?” At Yahaba’s nod, Tooru continued, voice getting smaller as he hunched in on himself. “Then you should know it’s not looking very promising. The only concrete thing we’ve remotely agreed on is the need for a shared border patrol and some minor trade route markers - miniscule compromises in the much larger picture. I’m starting to dread those meetings, and not simply because I dislike Aobajousai.”

“I would accuse you of being difficult, but this probably isn’t the time, is it?”

Tooru tried for a light laugh, winced when it came out strangled instead. “What are you saying, Yahaba-chan? I’m always difficult. It’s a part of my charm.”

“If you say so. Oh, so I heard that Tanaka asked for the Jiyūshinu mines for Aobajousai today.”

“He did.”

Yahaba’s whistle was disbelieving. “That’s some audacity he’s got there, to demand the site of the Cavalry Massacre.”

“The site where I set two squadrons of men on fire, you mean. Don’t hide it behind its fancy name, Yahaba-chan.”

“It was also the site that you were liberated from the previous Seijou no Tennō’s control. Those men didn’t die in vain that day, Oikawa-sama.”

“I was a murderer.”

“You were _twelve_ and _beneath the thumb of your father_. In fact, if not for that day, you wouldn’t be who you are today. Hell, if not for that incident, Seijou wouldn’t be what it is today.”

“A nation that throws sticks and stones at its neighbouring rival as it struggles to keep its economy afloat.”

“A nation that knows peace and stability under a good ruler.” Yahaba punctuated each word meticulously, pinching Tooru’s good side in warning when it seemed like the emperor might protest. “Besides, the Jiyūshinu mines make up a large part of our coal and iron exports now, so they’re not merely a stagnant memorial.”

Tooru rolled his head to bury it more securely within the crook of Yahaba’s neck. “Can you imagine the uproar of the people if I agreed to barter one of the most significant sites in our history to Aobajousai?”

“Did you tell Tanaka that?”

“Why should I have to? He is the one who should have done his research and learnt about exactly what he was asking for.”

“Fair enough. C’mon, on your back before that salve dries up completely.”

The soft shift of indoor sandals on wooden flooring was quiet enough to have been ignored by less vigilant men. Tooru, though, had learnt well the price of carelessness at too young an age. “Who’s there?” he called out sharply, immediately straightening back up. “Who dares to disturb the emperor at this time of night?”

A dark shape detached itself from where it had been leaning against the door, a nearby lamp outlining Tanaka’s silhouette as he approached the bed, carefully deferential. “I’m merely reporting for duty outside your door as your retainer, Heika.” Those green eyes quickly darted over the tableau, widening minutely as they processed Tooru’s half-dressed state and the bandages Yahaba was unwinding from their tight rolls. “You’re injured.”

“Obviously.” For all his diplomatic statements about Aobajousai earlier, Yahaba’s voice was downright chilly with frosty disdain. “Anyone with eyes could see how Oikawa-sama was practically limping through the past week.”

Tooru schooled his expression to hide his wince just as Yahaba belatedly realized his gaffe of spilling such a private name in front of this particular foreigner.

“Ah, Oi- Heika, I-”

“First of all,” Tooru announced in as pointed a tone as he could scrounge up,  “I was _not_ limping, thank you very much. My legs were perfectly fine and this is mostly a flesh wound.”

“This is a flesh wound the way Takeru is a spring chicken.” Even flustered, Yahaba’s professionalism had him tugging on the bandage with enough pressure to choke a hiss out from behind Tooru’s clamped lips. The pain would be more tolerable if he were flat on his back, but Tooru would be damned if he were to put voluntarily himself into a vulnerable position before Tanaka. As it was, the injury itself was already a display of weakness, an unnecessary blow to his pride. _Show no weakness._

Beyond the buzzing in his ear, he could just about make out the sound of footsteps padding closer. “How did this happen?”

“One of your men got in a lucky shot in our last skirmish,” Tooru said through a strained grimace. “Perhaps even you, for all I know. Congratulations.”

“No, I-” Tanaka shook his head, abruptly clamming up. Yahaba spared him no glances, his focus back on his task.

“There, that should be good enough for now.” The healer said nothing further, glowering at the Aobajousai man. If Hanamaki was his oldest friend, Yahaba was the most protective over Tooru’s well-being, taking his role as the emperor’s personal healer all too seriously at times.

Tooru nodded. “Tanaka.” He crooked his finger until the other man drew closer, trepidation written into his every move. “You are here as Aobajousai’s proof of the peace treaty. As such, consider your knowledge of one of my names a show of good faith. However, if I should discover you have divulged it to Aobajousai no Tennō, there will be no mercy on my part.”

Tanaka’s head bobbed in the tiniest of nods. “Understood, Heika.”

“Good. Go.”

Only after Tanaka exited the room did Yahaba speak again.

“Oi - Heika-”

“‘Oikawa-sama’ is fine, Yahaba. And yes, yes, here.” Tooru extended his hands, allowing Yahaba to take them, peeling back the linen wrappings with care.

“I’m sor-”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. And, as you can see, my hands are as right as rain once more.”

“You definitely would not pass the acolyte test anytime soon.” Yahaba allowed Tooru to pull back his unwrapped hands though. “Please do mind the blisters though, and try to avoid using the fire unless absolutely necessary, In fact, it would be for the best if you avoided all fights until your side is good to go again, Oikawa-sama. I really don’t like playing jigsaw puzzles with your insides.”

“You know I can’t promise you that.” Tooru tossed a wry grin Yahaba’s way, moving to clamber under the covers of his blankets. “But I solemnly swear to try. Honestly, what would I do without you, Yahaba-chan?”

“You’d be five times more irritating and filled with holes, probably. Now rest. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day, and if you don’t sleep now, Tanaka won’t be just complaining about your bull-headed stubbornness - he’ll jibe at your panda eyes as well.”

“ _Mean_ , Yahaba-chan! Who taught you to be so cruel?”

“You, and long-term exposure to Hanamaki. Now, _sleep._ ”

\---

“Heika.” As the others trickled in for the day’s round of peace terms discussions, Tanaka approached where Tooru was seated, issuing a perfunctory bow. “Before today’s negotiations, I would like to discuss something with you, if you’re willing.”

Tooru surveyed him critically. “If this is about last night’s intrusion-”

“It is… not entirely related. But I have cause to believe it will be relevant to how today’s discussions proceed.”

Tooru hummed, then made a grandiose gesture. “I grant you permission to proceed.”

Tanaka’s eyes flickered over to where Kuroo and Yahaba were kneeling, along with a few of Oikawa’s guards. “If it is at all possible, I would prefer this discussion be conducted in private.”

Behind Tooru, he could hear Yahaba’s haori rustle as the healer’s indignant squawk drowned out the incredulous murmurs of the others. “How dare you! You do not have the right-”

“Yahaba-chan.” Tooru raised his hand again, and the ruckus faded into silence once more. “Tell me, Tanaka, what issue could you possibly want to address that you cannot talk about before some of my most loyal men?”

Something jumped in Tanaka’s jaw; aside from that nondescript tell, the other man was, for all appearances, calm. “I believe it would benefit Heika as well as myself to clarify a few matters that may be of a sensitive nature to yourself before we start today.”

Tooru allowed skepticism to drape artfully over his features. “There is very little that warrants that label. But let it not be said that I am a poor host; I will accede to your request this one time.”

“Heika.” Kuroo this time. “Are you sure this is wise?”

“Don’t worry, Tettsun.” Pulling back one of the ornamental sleeves of his kimono, Tooru allowed the heat in his blood to bloom into a single flame on his forefinger, small enough to barely prick through the skin. “I will be in no danger.”

“I asked not for yourself, but for Tanaka, Heika.” The lilt had nonetheless reappeared in the tactician’s voice, and Tooru nodded a silent acknowledgement of Kuroo’s concern even as he gestured for them to leave the small meeting hall.

When the door had slid close behind the last person, Tooru spoke again. “Do make this worth my time. I may be seriously tempted to singe you if this is a trivial matter.”

Tanaka’s nod was short and brisk as he moved into a kneeling position across Tooru. “I’ve been doing some reading in your library.”

“Oh, have you? Do you perhaps require my felicitations on your reading ability?”

“The Jiyūshinu mines.” Tooru went still at the name in Tanaka’s gruff tone. “Fifteen years ago, a rebellion was staged at this site. Twenty eight men perished in its wake, burnt to death by the innate elfire of the fifth Seijou no Tennō. ‘Tanima Gyakusatsu’, it was named - the Cavalry Massacre.”

“Ah, our laudable history. Tell me, Tanaka, how do they deal with eavesdropping on the emperor in Aobajousai? Because, were you one of mine,” Tooru said softly, hands white-knuckled where they gripped the hand rests of his chair, “I could have you imprisoned for such a trespass. Once upon a time, I might have even executed you myself.”

“Tanima Gyakusatsu was one of the worst, if not the most horrible tragedy under the fourth Seijou no Tennō’s rule,” Tanaka continued doggedly, even in the face of the veiled threat. “And yet, from what I’ve observed, the people do not seem to hate you nor want to dispose of you. I… do not understand.”

“Did you not think to read any further then?” Tooru’s ire rose, blistering his words with the anger that blazed within him. “Or perhaps you thought it better to bother me, Seijou no Tennō himself, for a trivial history lesson? I will not stand for this slight, Tanaka.” The smell of singed silk reached his nose before the ache in his hands registered. “Be careful with your next words - the peace between Seijou and Aobajousai may well be fractured by a single man’s gaffe.”

“That peace needs not be threatened by my actions nor words.” Tanaka’s eyes followed the flickering movements of the elfire - he was not cowed, Tooru realized, nor afraid. Yet the inflection of his voice had dropped to a lower, more calming register. “I merely wish to gain further insight as to the historical importance of the Jiyūshinu mines. Were it Aobajousai, such a shameful site would be traded away in barter easily, to cleanse the place of its past sins. Yet Seijou clings to it as one might a treasured heritage.”

“All Aobajousai needs to know is that Jiyūshinu mines is a productive component of Seijou’s current economy, and that it has a measure of historical significance. Should you wish to know more, consult a historian. My time should not be wasted discussing past events.”

Tanaka nodded. “So be it. Please accept my humble apologies for my ignorance.” A pause, then he bowed, slow and deliberate, his forehead touching the mat. _Saikeirei,_ the highest form of respect one could accord another in the Seijou tradition, and the second time he had performed it in Tooru’s presence.  “Allow me also to retract Aobajousai’s demand for the Jiyūshinu mines. What might Seijou be able to offer instead for Hiyokuna Tochi?”

The fire unfurling around Tooru’s hand wisped abruptly into black smoke, curling lazily towards the ornate ceiling as the emperor stared at Tanaka’s prostrate form. “...You no longer wish for the Jiyūshinu mines?”

“Aobajousai wishes for a measure of peace.” Tanaka straightened back into his original kneeling posture, each movement neat and precise. “And the first step on the road towards achieving that peace is compromise. Yes, those mines are much coveted by Aobajousai no Tennō -  Aobajousai has a need of the metals it produces.” His gaze was honest where they met Tooru’s. “But perhaps such a boon would sooner be a bane at the cost of further animosity between our two kingdoms. So, Heika, if it would please you, please propose a suitable alternative for the Jiyūshinu mines.”

“I...see.”

“Know, however, that what I am offering on Aobajousai no Tennō’s behalf is not insignificant either. Hiyokuna Tochi is amongst Aobajousai’s most prime rice fields; with the right farming techniques, it is agriculturally suitable for wheat as well. With Heika’s leave, I will be glad to show you the span of this land.” At Tooru’s nod, Tanaka reached within the sleeve of his simple kimono and extracted a scroll, which he unrolled to reveal a compact map. “Here,” a thick finger indicated a fairly large expanse, outlined in blue on the parchment. “This is Hiyokuna Tochi. As you can see, it is close to one of Seijou’s larger cities, and will aid in its further development. This is what Seijou stands to gain from possessing this land.”

“It is a generous offer,” Tooru admitted, piqued at the number of notations squeezed haphazardly into the small spaces of the map, too small for the emperor to read from where he was seated. “Yet you presume Aobajousai no Tennō will agree to all you are bartering on his behalf.”

“I have the full trust of Aobajousai no Tennō.” Tanaka’s voice was steady, the words sure as he said them. “What I agree to, he will as well. Yet we cannot proceed without your agreement in the matter.”

“Show me your map.” Tooru noted the minute hesitation staying Tanaka’s hand before the foreigner pushed the parchment closer to the emperor. Try as he might, Tooru couldn’t help glancing at the messy kanji, reluctantly impressed despite himself. There were several segments stained dark with ink on both Seijou and Aobajousai’s side, with notes on their produce, size and apparent value to Seijou. Tanaka had even gone as far as making guesses as to which areas Tooru might be willing to exchange with Aobajousai - poor estimations, despite the apparent effort behind their reasoning.

“The Sokonashi mines.” Tooru reached out and tapped one of the spots below the Jiyūshinu mine with a fingernail. “It is unmarked on your map, but yields the exact type of iron and minerals the Jiyūshinu mines do in a slightly smaller quantity. It is more than a fair match for Hiyokuna Tochi if you seek to gain metals for armor and weaponry. Also,” he continued before Tanaka could speak, “I will never approve of any stake in Kaijōhikari; it is a part of a trade route Seijou has previously established with Karasuno, and I will not tamper with it without meeting Karasuno no Tennō beforehand. Tsukiakari is closer to your border, but your offer needs to be good if you intend to claim that area.”

“The Sokonashi mines,” Tanaka echoed, lips pursed in thought. “They are not widely spoken about.”

“Perhaps you were not listening hard enough.” Tooru tilted his head. “I assure you, the Sokonashi mines will be more than sufficient. If you intend to negotiate for them in earnest, then I must insist on Tettsun being in here. Call him in.”

“As you wish, Heika.” Tanaka made as if to move, then stopped, returning to his kneeling position. “Before that, may I speak honestly?”

Tooru nodded, careful to keep his curiosity out of his expression. “You may.”

“Perhaps…” Tanaka visibly steeled himself, setting his shoulders before he spoke. “Perhaps I have been been overly hasty in approaching our discussions. I was confident that my plans were sound, and that the information I’d gleaned sufficient for the best possible outcome between our countries. I have done you a grave injustice, Heika, in assuming you were a petty, tempestuous ruler with no foresight. For that, I am ashamed, and humbly beg your forgiveness.”

“Straighten up, Tanaka,” Tooru commanded hurriedly, as Tanaka began to lower his head against in obeisance. “You’re not wrong; we have made more progress today than we have in days. That you did not pursue the further ownership of the Jiyūshinu mines has earned you enough of my goodwill to pardon your earlier slight.”

“You are most merciful, Heika.” The standard address of gratitude sounded awkward in Tanaka’s mouth, but he sat back on the soles of his feet.

“Hardly the first adjective one might attach to my person.” Unbidden, a chuckle rose in Tooru’s throat. “It might be beneficial for you to read a little more in our library before you next come to the negotiation table. Now, call in Tettsun.”

“Ah, Heika.” A slight flush crept into Tanaka’s cheeks; it was strangely attractive to see the foreigner flustered to a noticeable degree. “I have but one more issue to address. It’s… your name. Your retainer addresses you as ‘Oikawa-sama’.”

Tooru raised an eyebrow. “Your eavesdropping seems to have been more extensive that I’d expected.”

“That it might be, but it was completely unintentional. I truly was looking to report to my assigned post. Yahaba-san was very forceful in reminding me that since I was exchanged for one of your retainers, I should thus take up his duties as well. Still, please pardon my intrusion. I would never have asked to be privy to such private information.”

“I have not been blessed with the power to control the mind, and what’s been said can not be taken back.” Tooru hummed. “Men have been killed for smaller offenses, Tanaka. But you deemed me ‘merciful’ earlier, and so I shall show mercy. It may be the word the world breathed into my mother’s ear on the day of my birth, but it is still but a name with no blessing or curse behind it. Yet, breathe my name aloud in the presence of others, Tanaka, and you will see why I was once hailed as the Demon King.”

“Once again, you are most merciful, Heika.” Tanaka bobbed his head. “But if it does not offend you, please allow me to offer my true name in exchange for my knowledge of yours.” Aha, so ‘Tanaka’ was a misnomer after all. “In Aobajousai, we believe in the concept of ‘equal exchange’ - an eye for an eye, in all matters. Above all, balance and the awareness of its existence guide our path.”

“A archaic motto to live by,” Tooru mused. “But far be it for me to ruminate on your emperor’s rule needlessly. I give you leave to tell me your name.”

Tanaka remained unmoving. “Perhaps I have no right to ask this of you, but as Aobajousai’s acting ambassador, I must ask that you do not speak this name in the presence of others as well.”

Strangely forceful wording, so much so that it bordered on blatant rudeness for someone so many stations below Tooru. Tooru found himself more piqued than offended though. Perhaps Tanaka _was_ of noble birth. A bastard’s child surely, that he would be demoted to being one of the Aobajousai no Tennō’s personal retainer. Or perhaps promoted into the position? Either way, ‘Tanaka’ presented a puzzle, one that Tooru would ponder upon at his leisure.

“Who are you to ask such a request of me?” he asked aloud, keeping his tone light. “Is your name worth more than the iron we mine in the Jiyūshinu mines? Will you keep it on your tongue then, if I were to refuse to accede to your demands? Would you divulge it if I commanded it of you in the peace negotiations?”

Green eyes watched him closely even as Tanaka answered carefully, keeping his head low. “Your humble servant apologizes for his brashness, Heika. I understand that matters may be different in Seijou. Yet in Aobajousai, my name - all names carry a significant weight. We are shaped around the name we are given at birth. Indeed, I would not offer mine to you if not for the misstep I have made - I wish to correct that error, but not at the expense of my shame.”

Seijou was first cleaved from Aobajousai centuries ago; as such, Tooru had his doubts that the two kingdoms' cultures would vary that significantly in terms of the importance of names. Still... “Very well, I will honor that request. Speak.”

Tanaka’s chest rose, held, fell. “My name is Iwaizumi.”

“Iwaizumi.” Tooru tested the name on his tongue. “Not even close to ‘Tanaka’.”

“Indeed not, Heika.” There was a weight in Tanaka, no, Iwaizumi’s tone.

“Well then, Iwaizumi.” There, there was a barely noticeable flinch that rippled down Tanaka’s back. “Will that be all?”

“...Yes, Heika.”

“Then,” Tooru resettled himself, folding his hands. “For the third, and I pray the last time, call Tettsun in. There are only so many hours in a day, and I desire a part of our treaty be settled today.”

\---

“What did you say to him?”

“Say to who, Yahaba-chan?”

Yahaba huffed as nimble fingers unpicked the intricate tie on Tooru’s obi. “You know who I mean, Oikawa-sama. _Tanaka_. He’s been holed up in the library the whole day; Sawauchi won’t stop lamenting his atrocious handling of some of our older documents over lunch.”

“Ah.”

“He even asked me about your father’s reign.” So caught up was Yahaba in his complaints, he didn’t notice the stiffness that straightened Tooru’s back as he gently lifted the ornate sash away from his liege’s body. “I suppose it’s good that he’s being more conscious of Seijou’s customs and history, but this change of heart is… well, ‘unexpected’ is one way to put it. I’m a little suspicious that there’s some kind of ulterior motive guiding him - ”

“Let him be.” Tooru rolled his head, sighing as his neck ached in protest. “Allow him access to the information he seeks, but only as much what the average citizen knows.”

“That’s a lot as it is,” Yahaba said dubiously. “Are you sure that is wise, Oikawa-sama?”

“It is my command; of course it’s wise, Yahaba-chan. Now, I’d like this kimono off before dawn breaks, mmm?”

\---

Thirteen years ago, Tooru would not have entered any room without first having his retainers check every corner of the space for intruders or would-be assassins. Sleep would be a rare commodity, with nightmares biting on the heels of unconsciousness. More often than not, Tooru would wake up screaming, blankets in ashes around him.

Thirteen years ago, Yahaba always kept a pot of salve for blistered skin on his person somewhere. Hanamaki would wake Tooru up, a veteran in knowing how best to wake his emperor without being killed or severely injured.

It was testament to how much things had changed since then, time a more calming balm than any magic afforded to man. Now, Tooru entered his private quarters alone, his retainers stationed outside. Mind still turning over the details of the latest proposed trade policy in mind, the emperor went through his nightly routine without much thought.

As such, he was unprepared for the shuriken that came hurtling towards his face out of the dark. Instincts well honed in battle had him twisting sharply out of the way, but a sharp edge still caught the soft flesh of one cheek and Tooru hissed, the pain already subsumed by rage tinted with despair around the edges.

An assassin. Aobajousai? The peace treaty. But where else? -

Another projectile, slightly larger, more deadly, whistled past Tooru’s ear. He drew his hand up, fire already setting the sleeve of his sleeping yukata aflame as it lit up the room, his eyes immediately scanning the darkness for any movement that would give away the location of the assailant.

The elfire never left his fingers though - a loud slam and a furious snarl heralded the entrance of another person who rammed right into the intruder, the two shapes struggling in what was clearly a fight. Startled, Tooru hurled the curl of flame in his palm at the fireplace. By the time the logs caught fire enough to light up the entire room, the brief brawl was already over, the fire casting shadows on two men dressed in Aobajousai garb, one of them with his hand curled around the throat of what seemed to be an unconscious shinobi. Surprised anew, Tooru stared at the victor, the angry denouncement of Aobajousai dissolving on his lips into a single dumbstruck word.

“ _Iwaizumi_?”

“I.” Iwaizumi’s eyes met his, and Tooru was taken aback at the fury that blazed within their green depths. “Heika, this assassin. I didn’t - Matsukawa _wouldn’t_ -”

“Oikawa-sama!” The door slammed open again, Yahaba’s sword out and ready as he rushed in, drawing up short at the tableau within. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.” Iwaizumi didn’t move from his position, but his fingers twitched where they still gripped the jugular of the assassin. “Yahaba-”

“You.” Yahaba looked back and forth between Iwaizumi and the stranger, rage and confusion warring for dominance on his face. “What - you - did you just, _you scum -_ ”

“ _Yahaba_.” Tooru pressed the other sleeve of his yukata to his cheek, suppressing a slight wince at the sharp pain that flared up under the applied pressure. The cut must be deeper than he thought. “Stand down.”

“But Aobajousai just tried to kill you!”

“Oikawa-sama,” The low volume of Iwaizumi’s voice didn’t fully mask the desperate urgency lining it. “Please, you must believe me, none of Aobajousai’s council would have done this. They may not be the fondest of Seijou, but peace is a commodity they sincerely seek. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

“It’s alright, Tanaka.” Tooru waited until the stream of words ran out. “I believe you.”

“Oikawa-sama, it could be some sort of trick-”

“You… do?” Iwaizumi’s faint exhalation overrode Yahaba’s diatribe about Aobajousai’s duplicity. Tooru pressed fingers to his temples, where a headache was beginning to build afresh.

“Yahaba-chan.” The mage snapped to attention. “Could you go fetch some healing salve? It would be for the best if this wound healed over as quickly as possible. No one else must know of what has transpired tonight. The council is already mistrustful of I-Tanaka’s presence; this will not be fuel for that fire.” Tooru waited until Yahaba was out of sight before he continued, voice steely. “Do not misunderstand, Iwaizumi - I’m no fonder of Aobajousai now that I was previously. Yet, to seize Seijou through assassination would harm rather than help Aobajousai no Tennō, and only handicap Aobajousai before the confrontation with Shiratorizawa. No, your emperor would not risk this kind of strategy so close to the oncoming threat, he cannot be that foolish.”

“He is not.”

“In fact, it is an insult that you assume that I would assign the blame to Aobajousai baselessly. Had I considered Aobajousai’s appeal for a treaty to be deceit, I would not have traded one of my own for you. That I did is a sign of good faith, or was that lost on your emperor?”

“We… thought it was a mindless show of power, or some form of insurance.”

“Of course,” Tooru muttered. “Perhaps I have given Aobajousai no Tennō too much credit in terms of intelligence. In your current position as my retainer, haven’t you had more than ample opportunity to strike me down? You can’t have been so blind that you failed to notice that little fact. And you’ve been privy to some of my policy making and government. Is that not a gesture of trust?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes lowered, but his ears were tipped with red, Tooru noticed with weary vindication as Yahaba hurried back in, a small tub in his hands. He allowed Yahaba to tug his hand away from his face, only hissing slightly as the mage carefully swiped medicine over the cut. On the ground, Iwaizumi remained motionless, face averted away from the sight. An Aobajousai accord of respect; Tooru could recognize as much.

Once Yahaba had stepped away, Iwaizumi spoke again.

“Oikawa-sama, please accept my apologies on behalf of Aobajousai for this inconvenience.” He yanked the unconscious body up carelessly with him as he stood. “If you’ll allow me, I’ll dispose of this traitor immediately.”

“No.” Tooru shook his head. “Bind him, and send him back to Aobajousai with explicit details as to his crime. I will not risk any accusations that Seijou is looking to instigate war anew.”

“Trust me,” Iwaizumi’s voice was flint - cold and hard in a way Tooru had never heard before. “Aobajousai no Tennō will understand. He will not tolerate this kind of insubordination. Aobajousai has declared a truce with Seijou; death is but a fitting punishment for this one.”

“Are you emperor or am I? I will send him back from whence he came. What Aobajousai decides to do with him then, I do not care. But I refuse to have more blood shed on Seijou’s land.” Tooru’s smile was faint, if slightly mocking. “Besides, it would give me a slight negotiating edge over Aobajousai no Tennō. One does not simply squander opportunities like those.”

“...As you wish.” Iwaizumi hauled the shinobi up and over his shoulder with seemingly no exertion, bowing to Tooru once before leaving. Tooru waited until the door had shut behind them before he allowed his grimace to slide across his face, sitting heavily on a nearby couch. The earlier throbbing was now a full-blown headache, pounding against the insides of his head relentlessly.

Sleep would be a long time coming that night.

\---

The ruckus amidst the sound of wood clacking against wood were audible even outside the large training compound, and Tooru paused on the threshold of the entrance, bemused at Yaku’s uncharacteristic enthusiasm. It wasn’t uncommon to hear Haiba’s enthusiastic ‘battle cries’ during an exhibition match, but Yaku, a more senior duellist, usually limited himself to brief grunts during the few times Tooru had practiced with him.

It was clear that Yaku had gone far and beyond subvocal sounds though, if the shouting was anything to go by. Whoever his opponent was, he was new enough that Tooru couldn’t place him by voice alone. A new recruit, perhaps? A highly skilled one, judging by the frustration thick in Yaku’s voice. Whoever he was, Tooru should take note of him for future purposes - anyone giving Yaku this much trouble in practice must be good.

Any idle curiosity Tooru had about Yaku’s opponent dissolved into astonishment as he stepped into the yard to see Yaku sparring against Iwaizumi. Both men were armed with the standard wooden _bokken_ the men used during training. Even as Yaku swiped his in the direction of Iwaizumi’s knee, the other man dodged the attack with a neat pivot, bringing his own practice sword down on where Yaku’s back would have been, had the smaller man not rolled out of the way.

“Heika.” Kuroo’s lazy drawl came from his left, the tactician sprawled crossed-legged against the fence. His gi stuck to his back in patches, and sweat flattened most of his hair down, making it messier than usual. “You’re just in time for the main event.”

Tooru dropped into a comfortable seating position beside Kuroo. “I’m offended no one thought to invite me to watch. You know I’d be interested in seeing how one of Aobajousai no Tennō’s men fight.”

“Sorry.” Kuroo sounded anything but. “I would have, but I got distracted.” Another cheer went up as Yaku nimbly pushed off Iwaizumi’s _bokken_ before flinging himself back into the fray. “Yaku here’s his fourth opponent.”

“And you were the third?”

“Your perception is as terrifying as ever, Heika.”

“While my perception is indeed impressive, even a foot soldier could look at you and draw simple conclusions.” Tooru levelled a considering look on his tactician. “No, what would be a testament to my my level of deduction is this: you intentionally waited for two people to fight him before you stepped in to better gauge his strengths and weaknesses. The first round wouldn’t have been enough for any kind of analysis. Given Tanaka’s personality, one of our own must have instigated it. A greenhorn; none of our veteran fighters would have provoked Tanaka in front of a whole training field. Tanaka probably tried to refuse, but the person probably goaded him with insults about Aobajousai to get him to engage. Anyone that arrogant wouldn’t have taken the fight seriously, and Tanaka _is_ one of Aobajousai no Tennō’s retainers. So, a quick defeat. They likely insisted on a rematch, which I’m assuming Tanaka agreed to. Whoever it was was likely beaten soundly again; it’s only been about fifteen minutes since daily training started, and you said Yaku’s the fourth fighter.

“The second fighter though, he was good. Enough that you assumed you had drawn enough information on Tanaka’s fighting style to be able to beat him.” Tooru raised an eyebrow. “Clearly, you assumed wrongly, if Yaku is fighting him now.”

Kuroo’s grin was wolfish. “To my credit, I lasted a respectable five minutes. And the ‘greenhorn’ was Lev. No goading there; you know how excitable he can get over the opportunity to fight new opponents. Got his ass handed back to him in thirty seconds flat. Everything else was pretty accurate. Kai was the second fighter; held his own, but Tanaka’s a powerhouse, as you can see. Still, there’s something familiar about his fighting style.”

“He’s one of Aobajousai no Tennō’s personal guards. It wouldn’t be unlikely for you to have fought him on the battlefield before.”

“True. But there’s something about how he moves…” Kuroo snapped his fingers. “Can’t quite put my finger on it though. Either way, it’s useful intel - oh, there goes Yaku. He’s going to be mad for days.”

Amidst boos and cheers, Yaku glared up the length of the wooden _bokken_ at his neck, chest heaving as he scowled at a victorious Iwaizumi. The Aobajousai retainer’s laugh was barely more than huffs of air as he glanced around. His voice belied his fatigue though, ringing clear and loud across the space. “Anyone else? Surely this cannot be the best Seijou offers in terms of combat.”

Smoothly rising to his feet, Tooru took a graceful step towards the center, tightening the sash around his waist. The noise died into a reverent hush, and Iwaizumi turned, eyes widening as he registered Tooru’s presence. The sharp gaze was only diverted once to scan the surrounding crowd before it was brought to rest once again on the Seijou emperor.

Yaku handed Tooru his _bokken_ , muttering, “Give him hell, Heika.”

Tooru smirked, testing the weight of the practice weapon before assuming a battle stance. Across him, Iwaizumi did the same. One breath, two, and both men lunged forward simultaneously, _bokken_ bearing down unrelentingly on each other.

Iwaizumi was skilled, almost surprisingly so as he met Tooru lunge for lunge, slash for slash, parrying the hits easily. But Iwaizumi had also fought four men before Tooru; he was winded, whereas Tooru was barely warmed up.

Also… Tooru waited until Iwaizumi raised his sword before ducking in under the movement, tapping lightly at Iwaizumi’s throat.

“You’re dead.”

Howls went up at their emperor’s victory, the men drumming the handles of their _bokken_ on the ground in triumph. Iwaizumi bit out a huff of frustration, but bobbed his head in a quick nod of concession as his arm dropped to his side, _bokken_ hanging loose from his fingers. “So I am.”

“Come.” Tooru turned, making his way to the side once more, Iwaizumi following in his wake. At a nod, Yaku had the usual combat drills running once more, the spectators reforming into disciplined fighters as they moved in unison. Tooru watched them briefly, before turning to Iwaizumi.

“I’ll give you ten minutes of rest, then we’ll spar again.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. “What? Uh, sorry, I mean, Heika, I do not-”

“In war, fair fights are a luxury, a commodity one cannot count on. But the training grounds are not the battlefield.” Tooru surveyed the other man critically, tapping his chin. “Tell me: you’re primarily an axe wielder, aren’t you?”

Iwaizumi’s head snapped back up, surprise coloring wide eyes. “How did you know?”

“You overswing your weapon too much, as if compensating for a weight that isn’t there. Barely noticeable, but enough to open a window of attack with a lighter weapon. Your grip also constantly readjusts itself.”

Iwaizumi stared for a moment longer. Then he shook his head, a dry chuckle leaving him. “I was told I had no tells in my combat style when I was in Aobajousai.”

“Whoever it was is a liar, or simply not observant enough. Plus, you have the disadvantage of having fought four rounds prior to our match. The odds were skewed to begin with.”

“You are a strange emperor, Heika.” Iwaizumi watched him, expression shrewd. “Most would rather boast of the victory than admit they had an advantage going into the fight.”

“Get Yaku to fetch you one of our _ono_ once you’re done resting. Then meet me in my private garden.”

“We won’t be fighting here then?”

“I will not have my men be further distracted from their training.” Also, Tooru’s pride wouldn’t allow him to potentially lose face in front of his own men.

Iwaizumi’s bow was perfunctory. “As you wish.”

Fifteen minutes later saw the two of them standing across each other in the private garden Tooru usually used for his own combat training, Tooru holding the _bokken_ while Iwaizumi’s palm curled loosely around a large practice axe.

“Heika, before we start, if I may speak-”

Tooru flapped his free hand impatiently. “Just speak, Iwaizumi. In combat practice, formalities are waived. Manners are all well and good in court, but they may cause your death on the battlefield.”

“Ah, very well then.” Iwaizumi peered at him. “You said earlier you wanted a fair fight, but try as I might, I can’t quite consider this ‘fair’.”

“Was ten minutes of rest not sufficient?” Tooru arched an eyebrow. “Or are you alluding to my rank? Again, on the battlefield-”

“Your side.” Iwaizumi gestured to it. “Isn’t it still injured? Also, you pointed out my disadvantage with the choice of weaponry, but aren’t you yourself a wyvern rider? As such, this ground combat has you at a disadvantage too.”

Tooru paused, a little discomfited. “I… oh. Do not concern yourself with my injury; it’s almost completely healed over, thanks to Yahaba’s work. As for my combat preferences,” he tilted his head in what he knew was an attractive sneer,  “An emperor favored by the gods can have mastery over more than one style of fighting under heaven, Iwaizumi.”

“Certainly the gods didn’t create all emperors with egos like yours,” Iwaizumi muttered, just loudly enough for Tooru to catch it. The Seijou ruler clicked his tongue, twirling the _bokken_.

“Such bitter words, Iwaizumi. Do take care not to choke when I season them with the salt of defeat and make you swallow them.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Thick fingers tightened their grip on the _ono_ , Iwaizumi’s whole body falling into a combative stance. They were circling each other now, sizing each other up.

“Well, you’re in luck - it seems that I am in the mood to grant your request.” A beat, then Tooru lifted his _bokken_ to meet the force of Iwaizumi’s blow. The wood of their chosen weapons clacked against each other loud and often, a song of warfare as both men parried, attacked, defended against each other in a near-silent waltz.

Not that Tooru was paying attention; the rush of blood buzzed loud in his ear, drowning out all other noise as he dodged another one of Iwaizumi’s counterattacks. Tooru may have been an adept wyvern rider, but swordplay had been his first and primary fighting style, drilled into him vigilantly by his father.

“You are to be a weapon where I couldn’t be,” the fourth Seijou no Tennō would tell him whenever Tooru cried that his hands hurt, that he couldn’t hold the sword properly around the blisters. “You have been blessed by the gods with holy fire; you will be strong. With you, we will devour Aobajousai once and for all.”

And so Tooru fought, had been fighting since the day he could grip a sword. First it was against his combat instructor, then against the seasoned veterans of the army. Then, the criminals, the thieves, those accused as ‘traitors to the throne’. Then Aobajousai, and the multitude of soft, vulnerable bodies hidden behind metal plates.

Then, his own father.

There was something visceral about fighting; in its own way, it was an impromptu dance, beautiful and deadly. No movement was wasted. Every twist of the arm, the elbow, the wrist - every turn of the thigh, the knee, the ankle - matters; move wrongly, and you forfeited victory. Move slowly, and you courted death.

The passing time, the distraction of pain - all trivialities that didn’t matter in the face of _now_ . The fight was everything, the fight wasn’t over until he had won. Tooru thought he laughed; he tasted salt on his tongue, he struck, struck, _struck -_

“Heika!” Sound trickled back in slowly, and Tooru blinked, uncomprehending at the sudden halt, every muscle in his body straining against the weight halting the momentum of his attacks. His chest heaved as he stared dumbly at the grip around his wrist, its tightness filtering into his senses alongside the various aches and pains that latched onto his limbs.

Then his eyes flickered higher towards the fire that danced on the edge of his fingers, all five of them pointed in Iwaizumi’s direction.

“Heika.” Iwaizumi’s voice was a little more than a wheeze in between ragged breaths, but what little of it was calm and steady nonetheless. This close, Tooru could see the flecks of hazel within the obsidian shade of Iwaizumi’s irises. “Oikawa-sama. I don’t think you want to kill me over a simple practice match.”

“I…” Tooru faltered, disoriented. “You…”

“I concede. This match is your win.” Both Iwaizumi and Tooru watched as the flames slowly reduced themselves into smoke curling around swollen fingers. “You need to sit. Or I need to sit, I don’t care. Either way, c’mon.”

Tooru allowed himself to be hauled over to the wooden patio, where Iwaizumi sat him down on the steps before collapsing beside him, his own shoulders rising and falling with each ragged breath.

“I’ll get…” Iwaizumi attempted to move, then grunted and stopped. “...never mind. Later.”

“I’ll…I’ll call someone...”

“Let’s just...sit for a bit, yeah? Sounds like...a brilliant strategy...to me.”

The breeze that herald the early evening was chilly against battle-heated skin, and Tooru tipped his head back, allowing it to curl around his neck. From the corner of his eye, he saw Iwaizumi’s head turn towards his, but couldn’t muster up enough energy to care about it.

“I… apologize,” he said once his lungs had enough air to lend words to his mouth. “I shouldn’t have drawn the elfire on you. I assure you, I didn’t mean to use it.”

“You did.” Iwaizumi’s reply was blunt, but honest. “But…how should I put this? You weren’t quite yourself. I’ve seen men who have lost themselves in battle before - in Aobajousai, we call it ‘berserker’s rage’.”

“Berserker’s rage.” Tooru turned the phrase over in his mind. “I simply call it the ‘blankness’.”

“By any other name…” Iwaizumi shrugged. “It is, to put it simply, that state of mind where one is subsumed by the need to destroy everything in your path. A deadly and destructive force, whichever direction it’s aimed in. That it should appear in a practice spar was unexpected. But then again, perhaps I should have foreseen this as well - I _am_ currently the representation of Aobajousai. It may be that you were simply overcome by the need to defeat Aobajousai in every skirmish possible.”

“Again, I apologize.” The apology was sour on his tongue; it was rare for Seijou no Tennō to say that phrase without the sting of sarcasm or scorn deforming its meaning. But it was rarer yet for him to lose control of himself these days. Tooru lowered his own head, humiliation at his poor control a cold stone of shame sitting heavy in his stomach. “And I assure you, it had nothing to do with Aobajousai.”

“...this is related to your title as ‘Demon King’ then?”

Tooru’s chuckle was mirthless. “I see you are finally educating yourself on our history properly.” The name, while no longer used in his presence these days, still provoked bitter regret - while never officially declared as one of Tooru’s many designations, it had been passed through hushed whispers in salons, in desolate wails in the public spaces, in spiteful curses down dark alleyways. The Demon King was when Tooru had been at his most ruthless, executing the orders of his father with blind faith.

It was a time Tooru could not remember without tasting ashes on his tongue.

“I am but a stranger and as such, do not fully understand some of the nuances and significance of certain historical events. Yet, it seems to me,” Iwaizumi said, a measure of care tempering his words, even as green eyes watched Tooru closely, “that the designation, while created for you, would better fit your predecessor.”

“Regardless, the Demon King is the one who holds currently Seijou within his hands.” Tooru changed the subject, unwilling to dwell on the current topic. “So, you have seen the fire the gods have blessed me with and lived to tell of it. Tell me; isn’t Aobajousai no Tennō also blessed in a similar manner?”

“He is. But his magic is that of the earth. It’s… odd, I suppose. It doesn’t generate anything quite like your fire; rather, it shapes and changes what is already there. Useful though, for the harvest.”

“And deadly in a fight.” Tooru had experienced the power of Aobajousai no Tennō’s magic first-hand during their fights with Aobajousai. Earthquakes, fissures, walls of dirt springing up in the middle of their paths - it was why Seijou had taken to mobilizing the winged horses for battle.

“Quite. But it drains a great deal of energy. And Seijou’s flying squadrons are quite tiresome to deal with.” Iwaizumi’s lips quirked. “Or so he says.”

“At least his power doesn’t destroy his clothing.” The summoned elfire hadn’t been large enough to kindle Tooru’s sleeve this time. Small mercies, he supposed.

“There’s that. It does stain fabric quite terribly though.”

“I don’t suppose you have to wash them, as one of his personal retainers?”

Iwaizumi’s face was completely serious. “I am terrible at laundry.”

A startled giggle escaped Tooru before he could help himself. “What _are_ you good for then?”

“I’m not sure if you’d be able to fully appreciate my vast range of skills.”

“If they’re anything like your negotiation capabilities, I’m afraid you’re right.”

“I’m working on those. And given how the discussions are going, I daresay I’m not wrong in saying they’re improving at a rapid pace.”

“Oh? In that case, I must remember to be extra punctilious at our next discussion.”

“Don’t. You already are persnickety enough as is. I’d almost rather just have an old-fashioned fight over each contention point than deal with finely-worded arguments.” Iwaizumi rolled his head backwards, groaning in satisfaction as something in his neck cracked. Almost automatically, Tooru’s eyes were drawn to it, tracing the thick veins down to where they disappeared beneath the sweat-dampened collar of Iwaizumi’s gi. The sleeves of the other man’s top had been rolled up prior to their fight, exposing muscles that flexed, tight beneath skin as Iwaizumi stretched lazily.

Loose-limbed and relaxed, Iwaizumi was an attractive man by conventional standards. And while Tooru wasn’t exactly privy to all the skills Iwaizumi had mentioned, he’d seen evidence of them to be able to admit privately that, despite his original intention to catch Aobajousai no Tennō off-guard, Tooru’s choice in selecting Iwaizumi as Aobajousai’s representative had been a good one.

“Heika.” Iwaizumi’s voice broke into Tooru’s train of thought. “I was wondering…I understand that this might be a presumptuous request -”

“Oh, suddenly rediscovered your manners?” Tooru raised an eyebrow at Iwaizumi. “Just speak plainly - I won’t be offended.”

“I came to the training yard in hopes of perhaps being able to observe how your air-borne fighters train with their steeds. That is, I assume they must train with them, given what a nuisance they are in battle-”

“Oh, upgrading to flattery now, I see.”

“Would I be permitted to watch the air squad train? Yahaba said he wasn’t sure if you’d consider it off-limits, and that he’d ask you. But since we’re here, I figured I might as well ask you myself.”

Tooru hummed, tugging the collar of his own gi looser to allow some of the breeze to sneak under the thin material and cool him off. “Are you that keen to learn all our weaknesses as a failsafe?”

“No.” Iwaizumi’s protest was a little strained. “No, I was... though now that you’ve brought it up…” He cleared his throat before forging on. “Aobajousai is located inland; our terrain makes it near impossible for winged pegasi and wyverns to live, much less be tamed for riding purposes. I really just want to see them, if we’re being honest.”

Tooru studied the other man shrewdly; there was nothing in his expression that suggested that Iwaizumi might be lying. Granted, Tooru was not always accurate, but he prided himself on his judgement of character, and what he’d seen of Iwaizumi had seemed trustworthy enough. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in letting you attend one training session to have a grasp of what you may be potentially negotiating for in the future. No, don’t look at me like that,” at Iwaizumi’s quick snap of his head, guilt written into every line of his face, “Of course Aobajousai would make a bid for some of our winged beasts. I would be surprised if you didn’t. Don’t get your hopes up though; I can by quite… what’s that word again, ‘persnickety’?” Tooru levelled a lazy grin on Iwaizumi.” But if you’ll agree to all the points Kuroo brings up in our next meeting, I may be generous enough to allow you to ride one.”

The red of exertion that had been fading from Iwaizumi’s cheek abruptly bloomed again, and Tooru’s smirk widened at the sight. Iwaizumi’s voice, when he next spoke, was composed though. “I cannot promise to agree to everything Kuroo says without first considering it, but thank you for your kindness.”

“With that, I believe we are done here.” The sun had risen, moving the shadows along the small courtyard until they were almost gone. Straightening his gi until he pronounced it suitably neat, Tooru got to his feet and moved towards the archway leading out of the garden. “I have court matters to attend to, and I’m sure you have people to annoy. Have Kozume or Watari inform you of the training sessions with the pegasi; if they object, revert them to me.”

“Thank you for the sparring session, Heika.” There was no irony tainting Iwaizumi’s speech; when Tooru chanced to look back at him, the openness of the retainer’s expression startled him. “Perhaps, if time permits it, we should do this again.”

_Berserker’s rage. Demon King._

“Perhaps we will.” Tooru turned away before Iwaizumi could catch the insincerity in his inflection, and hurried off.

\---

“He’s interesting.” Kuroo remarked. “Thorough, if not always the most detail-oriented of people. Pretty confident too, given how sure he seems that Aobajousai no Tennō will share his opinions. He might be a bit arrogant in that regard, but hey, who am I to judge, right? You sure know how to pick them, Heika.”

“He seems nice.” Watari commented. “A bit forceful at times, but at least he’s not rude, right?”

“He agreed to play shogi with me.” Kenma, in his quiet voice. “I won.”

“He’s not too bad, I suppose,” Yahaba admitted begrudgingly. “He did disable that assassin, and he’s been alright in following orders for most part, even if he keeps forgetting protocol. Honestly, how do they observe their manners in Aobajousai? If not for his foreigner status though, he’d make a pretty good retainer, which I suppose is why Aobajousai no Tennō chose him. Speaking of which, I wonder how Hanamaki is doing in Aobajousai? Hopefully, they’re treating him as well as you’re treating Tanaka here.”

\---

“We will be visiting the Sanbyū plains today,” Tooru announced, swanning into his rooms in a whirl of crimson fabric decorated with camellias. Iwaizumi barely looked up from the book he was reading, leaning casually against the pillar of the doorway.

“Mmm.”

Yahaba elbowed him in the side, hard enough that the other man grunted, lifting his head to glare at other retainer. The look Yahaba shot back in response was scathing as he practically dragged Iwaizumi out, chirping to his amused emperor, “We’ll have everything ready to go in an hour or so, Heika.”

A very sheepish Iwaizumi stood at attention beside a grimly satisfied Yahaba, Kunimi and Kenma by the time Tooru entered the flight stables. The emperor eyed him, unable to quite repress a small smirk.

“I assume Aobajousai no Tennō does not usually require his retainers to do such menial chores such as prepare for short trips?”

“Not terribly often. He is more inclined to travel alone spontaneously and stealthily, which usually produces quite a number of headaches for th- us.”

“Hmm, an interesting man indeed. But surely it must be hard to sneak around with that eyesore of a helm he wears.”

Iwaizumi twitched slightly at the casual insult, and Tooru suppressed the traitorous tug on the side of his lips that quivered nonetheless. The retainer’s answer, when it came, was suitably detached though, even and bland. “On the contrary, it eases the sneaking around. Donning that family heirloom means that the face of the emperor himself is largely unknown to the people of Aobajousai. He doesn’t wear it when he goes around Aobajousai on unofficial business.”

Tooru paused from where he was tightening the saddle on Takeru, intrigued. “Oh? Would that not make it easy for anyone with access to that helmet to claim that they are Aobajousai no Tennō then?” A thought entered his head. “Should I be worried that I’ve possibly met with an imposter? How can I be sure that the proposed truce between our countries is valid?”

“Upon my life, I can assure you, Seijou no Tennō, that you did indeed meet with Aobajousai no Tennō that day on the field.” Iwaizumi’s words was unwaveringly sure. “Should you need further reassurance upon your next meeting, ask him for a demonstration of his magic. Only he can manipulate the earth as the man the gods have deemed worthy of their favor.”

“Fair enough. I suppose I could do that if absolutely necessary.” Tooru whistled a sharp and high note, and Takeru lowered himself enough for the emperor to smoothly climb up onto his back. Behind him, he heard his guards mount their own steeds - all of them winged pegasi, slightly smaller than Takeru. At Kenma’s signal, the beasts moved simultaneously, Takeru beating its leathery wings to immediately launch into the expanse of sky while the horses galloped beneath to build enough momentum to take off.

Flying without the fear of battles was still one of Tooru’s favorite activities, even as an emperor. Sleek and powerful, the air unit travelled distances their ground ones could not, making it a convenient method of commute for Seijou no Tennō to move around his country. In battle as well, it gave them an advantage over their foes; as far as he could tell, Seijou was the only kingdom with flying squadrons in their battalion. Not even Shiratorizawa had them, even if their snipers and cannons severely limited the movement of Seijou’s air line in fights.

But Tooru’s love for flying didn’t stem from practical reasons. This high up, it was easy for the brunet to leave the stresses and intricacies of government and diplomacy gravity-bound. Up here, there were no sounds save for the rushing of the wind in one’s ears. Up here, it was safe.

When he had been younger, Tooru would take to the skies during the seasonal storms, navigating Takeru to dart around the lines of lightning that forked towards the earth below as he clung to the wyvern’s back, drenched to the bone. His retainers back then had been frantic every time Tooru reappeared, dripping with rain and contentment, and he would be hustled away to be redressed and re-primped before the emperor discovered the state of his son.

Those joyrides became scarcer and scarcer the older Tooru became, his father insisting that he stay with him at all times. “To learn the ropes of ruling”, he had said. “To execute his orders” was what he had meant, and Tooru grew hard, scales hardening over his emotions the way they covered Takeru’s hide.

When the fourth Seijou no Tennō died at the hands of his own kin, Tooru disappeared with the old emperor’s body, leaving Seijou in chaos for three days, the people clamoring to know who their ruler was, even as the inner court prevaricated and panicked, unsure if they even still had an emperor to ascend the throne.

On the dusk of the fourth day, the horde of people pounding at the castle gate would swear they witnessed the descent of a god into the the palace of Seijou no Tennō, such was the heat of the fire that scalded the peach-tinted evening red.

That night, trailed by frightened nobles, Tooru stepped into the throne room, skin and hair rain-damp where rich brocade didn’t soak it up. The young heir looked at the golden seat, as still as the gilded statues that lined the hall. Then his shoulders shook soundlessly, whether with laughter or tears, the court would never know.

The next day, the fifth Seijou no Tennō was announced to the public and Seijou lifted its head up once more as it began to heal.

The sight of the cliffs heralding the Sanbyū plains came all too soon, and Tooru took a few minutes to appreciate the sight of the waves hurling themselves against the rocks before he squeezed his knees, guiding Takeru down to land on one of the larger spaces of flat land. He dismounted in time to see Kenma’s pegasus almost crash into the ground, whinnying madly as its rider attempted to calm it down, rare panic breaking across his face. Behind Kenma, Iwaizumi more or less fell off the steed, grunting as he slammed bottom-first onto the dirt. By the time Tooru was close enough to call out to them, Iwaizumi had pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as he rubbed at his tailbone while simultaneously assuring assured Kenma he was alright.

“Is everything fine?”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth, but Kenma beat him to it. “I’m not sure Atari can safely support the weight of two riders a second time, Heika.”

Kunimi and Yahaba exchanged looks with each other - Tooru didn’t even need to squint to read the consternation on their faces. Amongst the three, Kenma’s pegasus was the largest and strongest - the biggest in the air squad, in fact. If Atari couldn’t handle Iwaizumi as a passenger, neither of theirs would be able to either.

Iwaizumi gingerly got to his feet, admirably composed despite the red shading his cheeks with embarrassment. “It’s alright. If there are horses - land-horses, I mean - anywhere in this vicinity, I am positive I can ride back to the palace.”

“We can’t let you do that unsupervised,” Yahaba argued. “It’s unfavorable for us, and dangerous for you. One of us will have to accompany-”

“Seijou no Tennō.” A shadow melted out from behind the trees, and Tooru turned from the small debate that had broken out amongst his guards to acknowledge the spy who knelt at his feet. “I have the reports from the border.”

“You have my permission to speak.”

“Regarding the matter of the assassin, Aobajousai has completed their investigation. The hit was traced back to a minor noble, with a deep-set grudge against the current Aobajousai no Tennō.”

“Ah,” Tooru murmured, nodding. “So Aobajousai too has rebellious sons.”

“It would appear that he wished to kill two birds with one stone: ruining the current peace negotiations, while framing the emperor as less than honorable, thereby preventing any future peace attempts between Seijou and Aobajousai. The man has been suitably disposed off. Even as we speak, an official envoy moves towards our capital with Aobajousai no Tennō’s formal explanation.”

“Alright. How is the situation at the border? ”

Members of the patrol on both sides are still hostile towards each other, but the outbreaks of fighting is reducing slightly. Kuroo-sama has visited a few times to mete out punishments to the Seijou men brawling with guards from Aobajousai. On Aobajousai’s end, it appears that someone called ‘Kyoutani’ also strictly enforces their discipline. According to sources, this ‘Kyoutani’ has a beast-like temper, hence the effectiveness of his enforcement. Hanamaki-sama has also been spotted in the area a few times; he appears to be in good health and was seen exchanging civil conversation with one of the Aobajousai nobility in his company.”

Given that he had assigned Hanamaki directly to Aobajousai no Tennō, the unnamed noble might well be the emperor himself stripped of his distinctive armor. After all, Iwaizumi had said Aobajousai no Tennō was fond of observing his men incognito. “Do you have any further information about the noble with Hanamaki?”

The spy shook her head, her short ponytail swishing with her movement. “I apologize for my lack of foresight in collecting information on this man, Heika. All I can add is that Hanamaki-sama seemed at ease in his presence.”

Tooru turned that bit of observation around in his mind, frowning slightly. As one of his oldest friends and longest serving retainers, he knew enough about Hanamaki to know that the dancer was wary about strangers, often as insistent as Yahaba on Tooru being careful in diplomatic matters. For him to seem comfortable with Aobajousai no Tennō must mean he found the other man trustworthy to some degree, which was actually quite remarkable, given the small window of time they’d spent together.

If the spy had been watching the Seijou court as well, would she be able to say that the interaction between himself and Iwaizumi was similar to that between Hanamaki and Aobajousai no Tennō? Tooru brushed the errant thought aside, annoyed at himself.

The spy - Suzumeda - continued with her report. “Aside from the animosity between the patrols, trade between Aobajousai and Seijou has improved significantly. The more established traders are refusing to do business with those they consider ‘foreigners’, but a number of the smaller and mid-level merchants are starting to establishing productive long-term deals with each other. As expected, most of our traders barter for Aobajousai’s produce, with the highest demand being for wheat and rice. The demand for Seijou metals appears to be fairly high as well. There have been little to no cases of robbery or unfair trade that we are aware of; the most critical obstacle appears to be the prejudices against the each other’s foreign status.”

Tooru nodded - that sounded similar to what he had predicted might happened. “Thank you for your report, Suzumeda. I will seek out your report again in a week’s time.”

Suzumeda nodded before she once again disappeared into the nearby foliage. The report had been more promising than Tooru had anticipated; he had been expecting more scuffles between the differing sides. The larger traders would cave once they noticed the smaller merchants prospering from the foreign trades - as long as physical brawls ceased breaking out in public, Tooru would no longer have to make an appearance at the border to intimidate his people into reluctant cooperation.

“It sounds like things are going well between our two kingdoms, Tanaka,” he called over to the other man;  an unnecessary action, it seemed. Judging from the concentration on the Aobajousai representative’s face, it wouldn’t be remiss to assume he had been listening in.

“I’m glad.” Iwaizumi’s response was brief, but sincere. “Aobajousai will appreciate the metalwork and tools Seijou has to offer.”

“It will be good to eventually establish a steady trade route as well,” Tooru mused. “Once the people overcome their prejudices, that is.”

“They will, possibly faster than you think.”

“Such optimism, Tanaka. But I suppose we can’t all be realists.”

“I’m not denying that it’ll take a while. It’ll definitely come with problems and misunderstandings. But perhaps, it is not impossible with time.” Iwaizumi sounded more certain than Tooru felt. “I take it this was the reason for our visit to the, uh...San...”

“The Sanbyū plains,” Kunimi filled in for him, tone flat. “Shouldn’t you sound more interested in Aobajousai’s potential future acquisition?”

“...Aobajousai’s…?” A crease burrowed itself into Iwaizumi’s forehead as he looked askance at Tooru, expression quizzical. “But why would this be?...”

“You once expressed interest in acquiring some of our pegasi, did you not?” Tooru made a large sweeping gesture at their surroundings, grinning as the wind caught his sleeves, making them flap for dramatic effect. “This would be a suitable location for the construction of a small stable close enough to the border for Aobajousai to access. Know that this is not a gift, however - Aobajousai must offer Seijou something of equal value if you would have me part with this location and some of our steeds.”

Iwaizumi looked around again, his gaze more accessing the second time around. “Is it not possible for it to be closer, or even within Aobajousai’s borders?”

Kenma spoke up this time, soft but decisive where he stood beside Atari. “Aobajousai’s terrain is not suitable for the rearing of our kind of pegasi. It lacks the kind of vegetation that these animals feed on, and the temperatures, while not that much lower than that of Seijou’s, is low enough to not be ideal.”

“Fair enough.” The furrow between Iwaizumi’s eyebrows didn’t disappear. “I still don’t understand though - this is good land, with a magnificent view.Why wouldn’t you want to use it for Seijou’s purposes?”

Tooru lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “Our people are already blessed with the sight of myself; one might argue that that is view enough for the common man.” Ignoring Iwaizumi’s snort and the unimpressed looks of his own men, he continued, “Also, I have no need for eyries so far from our capital. There are other cliffs with equally wonderful views that are more accessible. What Seijou needs is usable farming land, or some way to make our soil suitable for growing crops. Our people can’t rely on trade alone for sustenance.”

“According to the few who have tried to cultivate rice, our ground lacks something necessary for successful farming,” Yahaba picked up the explanation, all three men watching with varied levels of curiosity as Iwaizumi crouched, palm fanning out as he pressed it to the ground. “Um, what exactly are you doing?”

“It’s an Aobajousai method of testing the land.” Iwaizumi’s vague answer didn’t distract him from where he was seemingly prodding the ground pointlessly. “But you are right; your soil is crumbly; too much so to sustain vegetation, much less crops. Is it the same across Seijou?”

Tooru glanced at his men, who looked as confused as he felt. “I...suppose that might be the case. Seijou suffers from terrible droughts in the middle of the year.” Tooru crouched down beside him, poking ineffectually at the soil as he attempted to feel that Iwaizumi was apparently testing. He glanced at Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eye. “I’m sure Aobajousai has no such problem.”

“We don’t.” Iwaizumi’s answer was blunt and unsympathetic, which Tooru appreciated. “Not all of our lands are prime for agriculture, but the emperor usually aids in that respect with his magic.”

“How fortunate then, that Aobajousai no Tennō’s power is so beneficial to his people.” Tooru’s fists tightened by his side, even as his mouth tugged into a mirthless smile. “Would that Seijou were equally fortunate. Instead, my people are blessed with an emperor who destroys.”

“Fire reforges and transforms. It builds strong binds, and clears the way the old for new growth.” Iwaizumi’s face was calm as he straightened back up, no traces of derision or mockery gracing his strong features.

“Strangely poetic, coming from you.” Tooru looked away before Iwaizumi could catch him staring.

“Not all Aobajousai people are as uncultured as you take us to be. But enough sniping; I think I can offer a non-magical solution to your agricultural problems. Perhaps one even worthy of the pegasi eyrie you offer. Does most of Seijou get the monsoon rains?” At Tooru’s nod, Iwaizumi continued, “I will bring it up formally at tomorrow’s round of meetings, but Aobajousai has an irrigation system which knowledge we might be willing to trade to Seijou. I’m not entirely sure the pegasi stables will be quite enough though. Having fallen off one - sorry, Kozume-san, I am aware that it’s not your fault - I’m rethinking the favorable opinion I had towards Seijou’s mounted squad.”

“Oh, is that so?” A slow smile stretched across Tooru’s lips. “How unfortunate. It would seem that we will have to convince you to reevaluate the value of our mounts then.”

“Heika, he doesn’t know how to ride one alone.”

“Yes, that much is obvious, Kenma. No, I believe I’ll offer something better.” The smile grew a full smirk as Tooru beckoned Iwaizumi closer. “The pegasi may not be able to bear the weight of two riders, but the additional weight should not be a problem for a wyvern.”

Four collective intakes of breath met Tooru’s declaration. “Heika, you’re going to let him-”

Iwaizumi interrupted Yahaba’s disbelieving query with his own incredulous one. “Wait. Are you speaking in jest?”

“Have I ever spoken in jest to you, Tanaka?” Tooru clicked his tongue, waiting until Takeru had lowered itself before he pulled himself up into the saddle. “Oh, I suppose I may have - I’ve forgotten. I assure you, I am completely in earnest right now. Attempt to assassinate me mid-ride, and Takeru will be all too willing to drop you from your perch.” He made an impatient sound as Iwaizumi remained unmoving. “Come on, we don’t have all day. Unless, perhaps, you are afraid?”

The taunt brought life back into Iwaizumi - he was wonderfully expressive even speechless, Tooru observed with wicked delight, the retainer’s face flushing an angry red even as he stalked up to Takeru, roughly sticking out his arm to be hauled up behind Tooru. Some distance away, Tooru’s retinue watched the scene with poorly-disguised interest, even Kenma.

It took a little maneuvering - the saddle was meant to hold one, not two, after all - but, with some creative wriggling, Tooru managed to get Iwaizumi buckled in securely behind him. He had already known the Aobajousai man was strong from the sparring session they had, but was reminded of that strength afresh by the vice-like grip Iwaizumi curled around his midsection.

“You’ll want to hold on tight, Iwa-chan,” Tooru murmured, glee dancing along the edges of his warning. “Wouldn’t want you to be a pretty stain on the ground halfway through the trip.”

Settled this snugly behind him, Tooru felt the jolt that rippled through Iwaizumi’s body, even as the strangled “ _Iwa-chan_?” came from behind him.

“Appreciate the honor being conferred upon you, Iwa-chan. I address only those closest to me with that prefix. And I’d say you’re pretty close to me at the moment, wouldn’t you agree?”

Any smart retort Iwaizumi might have had was ripped from him, replaced instead with a startled squawk as Tooru dug his heels in and Takeru obligingly hurtled upwards. Reaching the appropriate altitude for coasting took barely any time at all, and Tooru allowed Takeru to surf the wind as his whoops of laughter were snatched from his mouth and dispersed to the clouds.

Iwaizumi was a warm line against his back, the other man’s breath hot where it snuck down Tooru’s collar. Tooru tried not to shiver at the strange intimacy of this unintentional skinship, asking instead, “Are you actually hiding your face in my neck, Iwa-chan? You’re missing the view!”

“I had plenty of the view at Sanbyū.” Iwaizumi’s words were muffled; definitely buried against Tooru’s shoulder. The Seijou emperor huffed, shaking said shoulder lightly before making a faux sound of concern.

“Oh, do you perhaps get air-sick?” It took no effort at all to guide Takeru into a quick barrel-roll, and Tooru grinned with unholy glee at Iwaizumi’s swallowed shriek behind him, the arms around his midsection clamping down even tighter. He considered urging Takeru into a drop, but nixed the idea reluctantly - it wouldn’t be seemly for Iwaizumi to throw up on Tooru after all.

“Please don’t take this as a reflection on our treaty,” Iwaizumi’s voice was thin and hoarse, tickling the curve of Tooru’s ear. “But I hate you _so much right now_.”

“As much as Aobajousai hated Seijou?” Tooru reigned Takeru in regardless, patting the neck of the wyvern as Takeru screeched in sulky displeasure. Beneath them, he could just about make out three formless shapes - Yahaba, Kenma and Kunimi, mere blobs against the miniaturized backdrop of Seijou’s lands. “But you really should take in the view from up here.”

He felt rather than heard the negation, Iwaizumi’s nose brushing against the fine hairs at the nape of Tooru’s neck as he shook his head. Trying a different tactic, Tooru sighed theatrically. “Then again, I should have expected this level of disregard from Aobajousai. Not only have you been granted the privilege of riding Seijou no Tennō’s own wyvern, you are being given a view of Seijou most could only dream of - both blessings which you are squandering right now.”

“...No more rolls.”

“No more rolls,” Tooru promised. “I’ll keep Takeru flying smoothly.”

Slowly, he felt the weight of Iwaizumi’s head lift off his shoulder, just about heard Iwaizumi’s sharp intake of breath over the whistling of air around them.

“It looks… exactly like a map.” The earlier panic in Iwaizumi’s had been replaced with reverent awe, and Tooru couldn’t help the swell of pride that bubbled up in him.

“It’s significantly easier to map accurate topography from this distance. This is why other maps pale in comparison to the ones created in Seijou. If the peace treaty is passed, I might consider sending my riders to plan a map as a commemorative gift to Aobajousai.”

“The peace treaty will be passed.” The absolute surety in Iwaizumi’s affirmation snatched Tooru’s own breath away briefly; seated the way they were, he couldn’t see the other man’s face, but this close, his presence alone seemed to infuse the words with a steady tenability. _Peace_ , Tooru thought. The idea was nice, desirable, too perfect to exist.

“You seem very sure of yourself for a mere retainer,” he said instead. “Only a foolish man would assume the best without preparing for the worst.”

“I will make it happen, even if I have to force him to see it my way.”

“Hah, an idealistic approach.”

“A realistic one.”

“If you say so.” Tooru was content to lapse into silence then, steering Takeru through the darkening streaks of evening as Iwaizumi drank in the rich sights offered below.

\---

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since Iwaizumi had been lent to Seijou in the name of goodwill. Two weeks in which said man had acted as his retainer, fiercely committed to his role despite his fumbling attempts at Seijou manners and protocols. Two weeks in which most of the negotiation demands Seijou would make of Aobajousai had been hammered out and recorded down in neat detail.

There was only one more week before Seijou no Tennō would officially meet with Aobajousai no Tennō and finalize the peace treaty, if both sides were amenable to the terms struck between them.

One more week before Iwaizumi would be formally returned to Aobajousai, and taken away from Tooru.

The Seijou emperor scowled at the ground, resisting the childish urge to kick at the loose stones. It was during times like this that he missed Hanamaki terribly. Kuroo was a brilliant tactician and Yahaba a loyal confidant when Tooru needed it, but neither were quite the same as the dancer who had grown up with Tooru, closely enough to be the safe outlet for what Tooru sometimes considered unnecessary anguish and angst.

“Only you, Oikawa,” Hanamaki would drawl, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Only you would go and unintentionally be attracted to the enemy.”

“He’s not really the enemy,” Tooru would insist, weak even to his ears. “We will be allies by the next month.”

“Uh huh.” Hanamaki would watch him with knowing eyes. “Why him, by the way? It’s not like there’s a shortage of men like him in Seijou. Well-built, short dark hair, square-jawed, as stubborn as the sun rising every morning...”

Tooru would make an incoherent noise. He wouldn’t flail, because the emperor didn’t _flail,_ but he might admittedly come close to it. “It’s… he’s handsome, okay, yes. But, Makki, he’s also…” _Obstinate. Fearless, most of the time. Careful and surprisingly considerate. Not afraid of me. Sharp_. “Quite...wonderful.”

“You like him that much, huh?”

Tooru would groan, bury his head in his sleeves. “I don’t know…do I?”

“Sounds like it, if you ask me. So sleep with him.” Ignoring Tooru’s scandalized yelp, Hanamaki would go on inexorably. “Work it out of your system. It wouldn’t be the first time Seijou no Tennō took the occasional bedmate.” Here, Hanamaki would pause, considering. His next words, while gentle, would be no less true. “You knew your mother wasn’t your father’s only wife.”

The fact still hurt more than it should; that his mother, the bearer of the original lineage to the throne could be reduced to just a warm body beside her emperor, her sovereignty overridden like mud beneath a horse’s hooves. But now was not the time to dwell on that, and Tooru would make another half-groan, half whine, muffled by thick fabric. “He’s not even of Seijou, Makki!”

“Nothing wrong with diversifying a little. Brave new world and all that.”

“But...but, Makki. What if… if afterwards, I _still_ like him?”

But that was as far as Tooru’s projected Hanamaki could go, diffusing like incense smoke and leaving the emperor even more confused and lonely than he had been before.

Outside, it began to rain.

\---

The soft sounds of the silkscreen door being slid open registered on the edges of Tooru’s attention, but he didn’t look up from where he was painstakingly inscribing a verse onto paper. Very few people would dare to intrude into Seijou no Tennō’s quarters without good cause, and the tentative entrance of the still-unknown-person meant that their presence here was not for any particularly urgent reason. At this hour, Yahaba, bless his soul, would either be visiting his family or down at the local tavern, staunchly defending his title of Saké Champion. Kuroo would likely be with Kenma in one of their quarters, playing shogi. Which only left...

“I’m not sure how it’s like in Aobajousai, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said conversationally, “but entering the emperor’s personal living quarters without my leave is akin to treason.”

The footsteps stopped, before they started up again, drawing closer. “I’m your retainer; is that not leave enough?”

“Not when I’ve dismissed you for the day. Isn’t there somewhere you could be, the training grounds for instance?” After the impressive public combat displays a week ago, Iwaizumi had gained a grudging, then glowing popularity amongst the soldiers, their esteem of him increasing at the retainer’s willingness to share fighting techniques and strength training exercises. The respect would go a long way in eventually reducing the hatred Tooru knew his own men still harboured towards Aobajousai, but there was nevertheless a brief pang of jealousy that had startled him with its appearance the first time he had spotted Iwaizumi openly laughing with Haiba, slapping the other man on his back.

Iwaizumi ignored the question, dropping into a relaxed crouch beside Tooru. “What are you doing?”

Tooru didn’t allow himself to react at Iwaizumi’s close proximity as the Seijou ruler finished drawing the brush over the thin parchment with a artful flick. “Murdering hordes of barbarians, clearly.”

“I can’t tell which is worse: your public persona or your private one.”

“I could have you executed for that level of rudeness, Iwa-chan.”

“You could, but you wouldn’t.” Iwaizumi punctuated the audacious statement (the truth, Tooru realised with ever-growing despair) with a flash of even teeth before he peered over Tooru’s shoulder, squinting at the elaborate calligraphy. “Hmmm, what have we here…‘The spacious sky spans serene and clear, so blue above. Oh, that our souls could grow and become so open.’”

“Ah, it seems Aobajousai people are capable of reading after all! My regard of your kingdom grows daily.”

Something twitched at Iwaizumi’s temple, but he refrained from retorting to Tooru’s sharp jibe with remarkable restraint. “Tanka?”

“Yes. Something for the populace, to pick their spirits up as we put ourselves back together.” Oikawa sat back on his heels, surveying his work critically. “It will also remind us to be more tolerant of the inevitable changes coming our way with our new alliance and trade with Aobajousai.”

“Fair enough. I must ask though - does it actually work? Poetry?”

“Well, It’s preferable to the threat of death via magic.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tooru saw Iwaizumi’s face struggle and fail to mask an obvious wince. “Spare yourself the effort of having to hide your reaction, Iwa-chan. It may have been brutal, but it _was_ Seijou’s method of government for a long time. Years, even.”

“Your history books mentioned it, but only briefly. The Kasai Age?”

Tooru’s smile was thin, pressed tightly at the seams. “Yes, the Age of Fire. A beautiful name for a terrifying time. They thought it might stop with my mother, but the ambitions of men are sometimes more cruel than even what the gods can see. And so Seijou descended slowly into the grip of a tyranny.”

“But that tyranny stopped with you.” Iwaizumi glanced at Tooru, and there was uncertainty hovering in those dark-green eyes. “The books said so.”

“Did it?” It didn’t take a lot of effort for Tooru to push a tendril of flame through the hardened crust of his forefinger. He twitched the finger in Iwaizumi’s direction; the other man’s flinch was miniscule, but eyes that were watching for it saw it as easily as if Iwaizumi’s whole body had flung itself backwards. “They said the madness was hereditary, that it would be a matter of time before I too am consumed by the lust for more power.”

“I don’t believe that.”

The anger surged up, swift and sudden, bile against the back of his throat. “You know nothing of me, Iwa-chan. It would be highly unwise for you to presume you do.”

“I’ve shadowed you for close to sixteen days now.” Iwaizumi, fearless, honest Iwaizumi was dogged in his insistence. Tooru was almost touched by his faith. “ And from what I’ve seen of your rule, if there were even such a madness to be inherited, you’d fight it every step of the way.”

“Such faith in your most deadly enemy.”

“In Aobajousai, we call that ‘trust’. Trust in our potential future ally.” A brief silence. Then, “Aobajousai was on the brink of ruin when Seijou first broke away from our kingdom.”

A startled laugh shook itself free of Tooru as he stared at the man beside him. “What’s this sudden need to share? Is this pity? Oh, of course not - I forgot your altruistic rule, your ‘ _equal exchange_ ’.” Tooru laced the words with as much venom as he could, whipping them out to to hurt. “A weakness for a weakness then, in the spirit of alliance?”

“With Seijou went some of our best scholars, our strongest fighters,” Iwaizumi spoke as if Tooru hadn’t interrupted him. “We don’t know what the first Seijou no Tennō had promised them, but it must have been desirable enough for them to pull up their roots in our kingdom and throw their lot in with Seijou. All these years later, I cannot pretend I understand the motive for Seijou to want to strike out on their own. But did it matter? Aobajousai was left wanting in the wake of that exodus. Our people struggled, growing up to hate those who had left them behind.” A large hand went to Iwaizumi’s head, ran through the short hair there distractedly. “The first few wars were not meant to be wars: Aobajousai had not wanted to capture. Rather, they had wanted to _woo_ Seijou back. But Seijou came armed with their weapons and a magic no one but Aobajousai no Tennō was supposed to possess. And so they raged, and… well, you are probably familiar with the historical battles as well, Oikawa-sama. So much fighting, so much hatred. Yet, here we are, on the verge of a tentative peace between Seijou and Aobajousai.”

“Here we are,” Tooru echoed, peeking at Iwaizumi through his eyelashes.“Tell me, Iwa-chan, are you capable of calligraphy?”

“I’m alright at it, I guess. But what has that got to do with anything?”

Dipping his brush into the inkpot, Tooru proffered it to Iwaizumi, who looked at it, brow still knitted with confusion. The emperor looked around him before patting an empty space on one of his practice sheets. “Go on, write your name for me.”

“What, why?”

“Must there always be a reason to do something? What if I simply wanted to see it? Need I command it? I, Seijou no Tennō, command you to write your name. There.”

“You’re not my emperor; you couldn’t command me to pick up your trash in your wake.” Nevertheless, Iwaizumi took the brush from Tooru, hesitating as he eyed the blank space. Then he looked at Tooru, and whatever he saw in Tooru’s eyes must have decided something for him, for he leant over and drew the brush in a single horizontal line.

Tooru waited for him to continue, blinking when Iwaizumi carefully set the brush back into the inkpot.

“That is not the kanji for ‘Iwaizumi’.”

“That’s because I didn’t write ‘Iwaizumi’.” Iwaizumi was still looking at the single line, gaze unreadable. Even as Tooru watched, a hand reached out to touch the paper absently. “...‘Hajime’. Doesn’t take an expert to be able to write it.”

The Aobajousai retainer had given Tooru his first name, the emperor realized with a start. And it shouldn’t have been important -  a mere servant’s name held no weight, concealed no secrets the way the way the nobles or the emperor’s did. But Iwaizumi was a noble, wasn’t he? He had to be, at the very least, one who was somehow one of Aobajousai no Tennō’s closest guards, important enough to be highly prized by his emperor.

And now, Iwaizumi was, in his own way, offering Tooru… what? Power over him? A secret? Something had shifted irrevocably, but Tooru wasn’t sure what it was.

“‘Hajime’. ‘The first’. A strong name,” he mused aloud instead. “You are well named indeed.”

“Equal exchange.” Iwaizumi was watching him steadily. Oh his knees, his hands lay palms upwards in a supplicatory manner. “This is what I’m offering for your story earlier.”

Equal? There was nothing equal in it, but on which side the inequality lay Tooru didn’t know. For once, he had no words at his beck and call, no jibes or quips in his arsenal to hurl at Iwaizumi, no, _Hajime_.

So he lunged forward instead, pressing his lips to Iwaizumi’s in a single ungraceful leap he would be embarrassed to admit to later.

The force of Tooru’s impulsive move sent the two of them tumbling, Iwaizumi onto his back, Tooru onto him as arms came up and around each other, the sleeves of Tooru’s kimono fluttering over, around them. Something pushed them out of the way, came up to curl around Tooru’s face - Iwaizumi’s hands, rough and strong, yet so painfully gentle.

How long had it been since someone had touched him in precisely this way? His mother - no, not quite, never, not with how those hands were now sliding beneath the silk of his clothing, trailing liquid heat along his collarbone. Tooru trembled, dribbling broken moans into Iwaizumi’s mouth as he lit up beneath Iwaizumi’s slow exploration, his own hands fumbling at the ties that held Iwaizumi’s hakama closed.

Something tore - hopefully not the tanka - as Iwaizumi bore Tooru down onto the mat, his body framing the Seijou’s emperor as he continued pushing layers of cloth off Tooru’s shoulders. The ornamental outer layer, the kimono itself, the inner nagajuban; the weight of Tooru’s office, responsibilities, troubles - all of it fell away, pooling around him in thick swaths. Yet the chill of nakeness was nothing, not when he burned under the adulation of worshipful palms.  

With the exceptions of half-stifled moans traded between occupied mouths, silence hung, nebulous, over them, broken only by the crinkles of wrinkled paper and the whisper of cloth sliding against cloth. Then Iwaizumi’s fingers found its way to Tooru’s nipple, and Tooru gasped, half-shuttered eyes flying back open.

“Hajime -”

Iwaizumi groaned, a wrecked sound that shot straight to Tooru’s crotch as the Aobajousai man buried his head against Tooru’s neck. “Say that again.”

“Hajime, you - _aghn-”_ as Iwaizumi rolled clever hips hard against Tooru’s own, sending pleasure shooting up Tooru’s spine. In retaliation, Tooru pressed his teeth against the flesh of Iwaizumi’s shoulder, feeling the shudder that rippled through the other man’s body as he moved an experimental hand into the folds of Iwaizumi’s hakama to palm at the hardness forming inside his fundoshi. Iwaizumi’s breath hitched at Tooru’s touch, then escaped in a long hiss. It didn’t take long for him to retaliate in kind, reaching for where Tooru’s own shaft was swelling within his fundoshi and stroking it hard enough to make Tooru keen aloud, parting his thighs to give Iwaizumi more access.

Imaginary-Hanamaki was right - it wasn’t unusual for the Seijou emperor to take a person to the imperial bed. But Tooru’s ascension to the throne had been thrusted rather than conferred upon him, festooned with the crumbling ruins of a tyranny. And so, upon his coronation, Tooru had turned all his efforts towards rebuilding Seijou, had channeled it into fighting off Aobajousai fiercely enough to hide their weaknesses. There was so much to be done as Seijou no Tennō that there had been scant time for anything else.

Still, as Iwaizumi wrung yet another pleasurable moan out of Tooru, the Seijou emperor wasn’t sure how adequate his own hands would be after this.

But there was time enough for thoughts and regrets later. For now, Tooru turned himself over to Iwaizumi, blazing even as he set the other man aflame.

\---

“We’ve ruined your tanka.”

Tooru didn’t move from where he lay cooling on the floor. “You’ve just debauched Seijou no Tennō, possibly ruined any diplomatic ties between Seijou and Aobajousai, and you’re worried about my tanka?”

“Mmmm.” Iwaizumi paused. “Yep.”

“Already I regret bedding what is essentially a brainless barbarian,” Tooru lamented, allowing his eyelids to flutter close. But his barb had no sting, and the chuckle on his right told him Iwaizumi knew it as well.

The stillness between them didn’t last long; too soon, Tooru heard the shuffling of limbs, the shifting of fabric. He imagined Iwaizumi looking at him quietly as the other man got up to leave, hoped the other man was doing just that even as he tried to pretend it didn’t affect him in the slightest.

Without any warning, one of Tooru’s hands was lifted off the ground. The emperor’s breath stuttered within his chest, startled hazel eyes immediately popping open as he instinctively yanked his hand back, cradling it to his chest protectively.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I just.” Even lying down, it wasn’t hard for Tooru to interpret the consternation that had settled across Iwaizumi’s features. “I’m. I sincerely and wholeheartedly apologize, Oikawa-sama. I didn’t meant to - I just wanted to…see them?”

Tooru wriggled his fingers in the retainer’s direction. “There, you can see them.”

“I...” Iwaizumi’s tone became even more tentative. “Can I… touch?”

It was funny if Tooru were to think about it, how Iwaizumi was so hesitantly asking for permission to touch Tooru’s hands, one of the most public parts of the Seijou emperor’s person when not five minutes ago, his own hands had been roaming across the hidden parts of Tooru’s body. Even now, under Tooru’s narrowed gaze, Iwaizumi folded himself into the seiza position, the flat planes of his stomach straightening with the formal sitting posture, glorious sun-browned skin unhidden by the kimono still hanging loosely from the other man’s shoulders. Should someone walk in, they would have made quite the tableau; one man sitting so formally before another half-sprawled across the tatami mats.

Tooru allowed himself to drink the sight in a little longer before he sighed, moving his hand to rest in Iwaizumi’s lap. Despite already knowing what was to come, his heartbeat stuttered a little when the retainer carefully picked up said hand, running his larger fingers over Tooru’s ugly ones. Abruptly, Tooru was reminded of how disgusting they must look - callused and scarred over by the constant usage of elfire, bits of dead skin flaking around old wounds. The blisters from the last battle had healed over at least, but had left new pockmarks within the semi-deadened flesh.

One of the most deadly hands in all of Seijou lay limp in Iwaizumi’s grip, and all Tooru desperately wanted to do was rescind his permission and hide his unsightly hands away.

Nothing about Iwaizumi telegraphed disgust however, his expression soft as he rubbed the tips of each finger gently. Heart pounding, Tooru waited for the inevitable question.

“Do they hurt?”

“Yes, the fire - what?”

“Do they hurt?” Iwaizumi was massaging them now. “These scars?”

There was an inexplicable lump in Tooru’s throat as he gaped at Iwaizumi. Hurriedly, he schooled his face and voice into bored nonchalance, propping himself up on his free arm. “There’s no blessing granted by the gods that doesn’t come with a price.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Iwaizumi’s tone was even. He was looking back at Tooru, his irises more stormy gray than green.

“They…” Tooru turned his head away to stare at the decorative dragons painted on the ceiling panels. “It is only natural to expect a degree of sacrifice for the magic I wield.”

“I don’t believe that.” Iwaizumi’s face was all lines of frustration and confusion, the effect still so absurdly appealing. “You say power such as this comes with a price? Forgive me for saying so, but yours seems exorbitantly high. Surely using the fire doesn’t have to injure you this way.”

His mother had had soft hands. Tooru’s memories of her were few and scattered, but he remembered them curved around him when he was a child - slender and unmarred, loving even. Perhaps if she had been around to teach him, if the elfire hadn’t been drawn out of him through force…

No. _No_.

“All power comes at a cost. Ask your emperor the next time you see him.” Bitterness bled into Tooru’s tone, no matter how savagely he tried to mask it beneath the airy blase he employed like a second skin. “He likely isn’t showing you what his magic has done to him.”

Iwaizumi remained silent. Yet, when Tooru tried to wrench his hand back again, the retainer held it tightly enough to arrest the action. Then, he lifted the hand to his lips, slowly enough for Tooru to pull back, deliberately enough that his intentions could not be mistaken.

Calloused flesh could barely feel the moist warmth of the gentle kiss to his palm, but the small pressure alone was enough to rachet Tooru’s heart up his throat, pushing a helpless gasp out of him as he lay, trapped in place by Iwaizumi’s grip on his hand.

“Don’t,” he found himself repeating, anguish mixing with the curl of pleasure that zinged through him as Iwaizumi continued kissing each and every finger, even pulling the forefinger into his mouth to suck on it. “Don’t do that, it’s - they’re - my hands are _disgusting_ -”

“Shhh.” Iwaizumi’s other hand encircled Tooru’s wrist even as he started to shift closer to Tooru once more, shuffling on his knees. “Yes, they’re not the most beautiful hands I’ve seen. But they are rendered inexplicably dear to me by the weight that they carry,” Iwaizumi’s mouth pressed, hot and wet, to the racing pulsepoint of Tooru’s wrist, “and the man they belong to. Please, Oikawa-sama, would you grant me this much?”

And what could Tooru do but tug Iwaizumi back down to him again after those words?

\---

Outside the walls of the imperial palace, the evening was quiet with the sounds of Seijou settling in at the end of the day. The sunset flickered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns across walls and roads as people hurried and lights turned on inside homes.

Then, it came - the battering of feet on dirt as the frantic cries travelled into the drowsy city, swelled into howls that ignited the night with fear.

“ _Shiratorizawa! Shiratorizawa is attacking!_ ”

\---

“Heika, on the right!”

Without turning, Tooru fired a blast of flame in the direction Yahaba had called out. Deaf to the answering scream of agony, he dug his boots into Takeru’s sides, urging the wyvern to do another sharp turn across the terrain as elfire dripped off his fingers into the battle below.

Two hundred men. That was how many Shiratorizawa no Tennō had managed to amass at the northwest Seijou border for a surprise ambush, easily felling the force Oikawa had stationed around that perimeter. As it was, the Shiratorizawa forces were already halfway to the main capital by the time Tooru’s army was able to intercept them.

But Seijou had labored under a tyranny long enough to harden into a fearsome fighting power. Further refined under Tooru’s rule, the soldiers rallied, doggedly holding the Shiratorizawa forces off long enough for the cavalry and air units to arrive.

Tooru didn’t bother wondering about the reason for the sudden, unexpected attack. Shiratorizawa wasn’t usually this rash, and were best known for their sheer power in numbers. For them to have pulled off something like this spoke of rushed planning; a reaction, rather than a tactical advance. But there would be time enough to deduce the reason behind this ambush after the fighting was over.

For now…Takeru twisted mid-air as Tooru’s elfire incinerated arrows fired in their direction. Cuts reopened, were ignored in favor of hurling balls of flame at targets with merciless accuracy. Already a savage grin was etched into Tooru’s face as he decimated whole ranks, setting them alight to the cheers of the Seijou front. From above, the sounds of weapon on weapon was muted, the fight below reduced to a mass that swelled and pressed against each other, writhing and pulsing as men parried, slashed, killed.

Then, a slice of air, sharp as a blade, scoured a gash open along Takeru’s flank, barely missing Tooru’s leg. A second invisible slash, this time along a wing, tearing the leathery flap slightly. The wyvern screeched in pain, spiralling into a dangerous loop as Tooru clung on, trying to steady the beast even as he whipped his head to scan the army below.

Only one bastard could hone winds into knives. Shiratorizawa no Tennō must be here. And wasn’t that a hoot, that the Shiratorizawa emperor himself had decided to come out and play with the Demon King?

“I’m going down!” Tooru yelled at Kuroo. “Tell the rest to watch out for air strikes -  Shiratorizawa no Tennō is down there somewhere!”

He barely acknowledged his tactician’s nod before Takeru folded itself into a steep drop, right into the middle of the largest fray Tooru could spy. Propelling himself off his wyvern, Tooru unsheathed his sword,twisting the elfire along the fine end of the longsword even as he swung it to slice at the closest Shiratorizawa infantrymen he saw. A whistle, high and short, sent Takeru back skywards to circle the battle above.

No shortcuts - if Shiratorizawa no Tennō wanted to confront Tooru, he would have to fight his way directly to him.

Blows and hits rained against his armor, glanced off the sturdy metal even as they sent pain shrieking through his limbs. But Tooru returned every hit with interest, retaliating harder, countering faster - a one-man maelstrom of death that engulfed those brave enough to engage him.

Seijou had feared Tooru once; Shiratorizawa would know that same fear.

In the midst of the melee and discord of clashing weaponry, Tooru thought he heard Iwaizumi roar, fighting with a borrowed axe from the armory. _“I will fight with you,_ ” the retainer had told Tooru, jaw set. _“Whether you allow me to ride alongside you or not, I will be there. So either you give me a horse, or I arrive by foot late.”_

Tooru had no mind to worry about the retainer’s safety though, preoccupied as he was with plunging his sword into vulnerable flesh wherever openings appeared in the enemy ranks.

High-pitched wails - a tornado had appeared, ripping up soil, swallowing bodies and spitting them back out. Tooru paused, dropping the unfortunate soldier in his grip as he glared at the sudden cyclone.

“ _Ch’_.” He started pushing his way through to where the Shiratorizawa emperor must be, incinerating those foolish enough to try and obstruct him. A lucky blade bit into the flesh of his upper arm - hissing in pain, Tooru yanked it out without slowing down, sending elfire down the weapon towards its hapless owner.

Time enough to feel pain later. Time enough to ache and collapse and take stock of the losses later.

For now, for now -

“Shiratorizawa no Tennō.” Shoving a body off his blade, he met the cool brown gaze across him with his own level one. “What an unpleasant encounter.”

“Seijou no Tennō. I heard that-” Ducking, Shiratorizawa no Tennō barely managed to dodge the burst of flame that Tooru fired at him. The Seijou emperor pulled a dramatically long face.

“Ah, so _close_.”

The Shiratorizawa emperor’s expression remained unperturbed, even as he redirected another stream of violent flame with a quick flick of wind. “I merely wanted to tell you that re-merging with Aobajousai is-”

“Ah ah.” Tooru wagged a finger at Shiratorizawa no Tennō, even as he flung quick bursts of flames in the other emperor’s direction, grinning triumphantly as a couple of them pierced through the other emperor’s guard to burn exposed skin. “What poor manners, Shiratorizawa no Tennō. Weren’t you ever taught that the battlefield was for fighting, not talking?”

“The battlefield is to be used as I please.” Multiple bullets of flame were abruptly put out with the gusts of air Shiratorizawa no Tennō manipulated ever more tightly around his person. “Why do you insist on continually resisting me? Wouldn’t it be more beneficial if Seijou-”

“ _Never_.” Tooru’s snarl was edged by frustration, increasing the firepower behind his hits even as the incinerating heat of each one was reduced to wisps of dark smoke with Shiratorizawa no Tennō’s strategic wind strikes. They were darting around each other now, trading blow after blow, magic bouncing furious and deadly between them. _Hit him,_ Tooru’s mind chanted as hands that were infernos spun out a blazing ring, stretching the conflagration in an attempt to cage the other emperor in, _hit him until he_ **_breaks_** -

An exclamation - a quick twist of a wrist that could have been arrested - Tooru was too careless, focus too narrowed -

The slightest breeze, so light it went unnoticed, yanked the Seijou emperor’s knees off-balance, knocking the air out of his lungs. He squeezed out one blast that scored a cut along Shiratorizawa no Tennō’s cheek, but the other didn’t even flinch, his fingers slowly curling into a fist as the gust that now whirled around Tooru’s throat tightened the way a noose might.

“I had hoped it might not come to this.”

Tooru choked, gasping for air, even as his hands struggled to form a last ball of flame, a last parting shot -

A wall of earth exploded out of the ground beneath Shiratorizawa no Tennō, scattering soil and stone as it hurled the man up and off his feet. Chest heaving as he greedily drank in air, Tooru stared, uncomprehending at the sudden pillar before him. Earth? But who -? Only one person could - Aobajousai? Arrived as backup? But even they can’t possibly come this fast -

A familiar silhouette planted himself before Tooru, the rocks beneath his feet detaching from the ground to spiral around his person as he clapped his hands together, collapsing the wall before him into dozens of dirt-packed projectiles that hovered, awaiting their wielder’s will.

 _Iwaizumi Hajime._ No, a part of Tooru whispered, fitting the pieces of the puzzle into place, not just ‘Iwaizumi Hajime’. He - he was -

Iwaizumi was growling, Shiratorizawa no Tennō was responding  - it didn’t matter. It was as if Tooru existed in a vacuum out of time, sound and space, goggling at the man he had treated and spoken to as a mere retainer, the man who now worked with earth as easily as breathing.

Little wonder Kuroo had found Iwaizumi’s fighting familiar. Turning the ground against his opponent almost effortlessly, he fought the Shiratorizawa emperor with a strength Tooru and his men had only ever observed from the other side of the battle field.

Automatically, his hand came up, instinctively aiming a blast of elfire at an undefended spot in Shiratorizawa no Tennō’s guard when the other lifted his arms to manipulate another string of air-

“No-ope,” a cheerful voice said brightly out of nowhere. “You won’t be taking out Heika that easily.” A figure swooped in front of Tooru’s fire, ignoring the burns forming along his side as he snatched the Shiratorizawa emperor out of the way of Iwaizumi’s boulders. “It’s your win for now, but we’ll be back to play soon!”

With that, the two men inexplicably winked out, leaving Tooru and Iwaizumi amidst the rapidly thinning fight. Almost immediately, Iwaizumi turned to Tooru, face already creasing with worried concern.

“Are you - your hands-”

“Who are you?” A stupid question, one which Tooru already knew the answer to, but he had to know. He had to _know_.

Iwaizumi’s hands fell away from where he had been reaching for Tooru, his expression frozen. Then his shoulders slumped before pulling themselves up into a straightness that was familiar and unfamiliar both at once.

“I…” Iwaizumi exhaled audibly, green eyes catching Tooru’s own hazel ones. “Damn it. _Damn_ it. I… I’m...”

 _“_ Aobajousai no Tennō _,_ ” Tooru found himself speaking instead; stripped of its defenses, it came out too thin, too high, too true. “You are _Aobajousai no Tennō._ ”

\---

“It’s not funny, Kuroo.”

“It kind of is, if you think about it.” The tactician was trying to dredge on a serious expression to little success. “It kind of is. Man, if I were a bard, I doubt I’d be able to tell a tale as fantastic as this.”

“The man snuck into Seijou under false pretenses! Laugh all you want; he could’ve killed us in our beds,” Yahaba argued from where he was wrapping Tooru’s upper arm in clean bandages, having already finished with his emperor’s hands.

“But he didn’t. Oh, I know you’re going to say he _could,_  but the reality of it is that, despite all the opportunities he apparently had - which was probably not as many as you think, given your diligence - he did nothing but deal with the peace treaty. He’s even returned to the palace with us with no protest. Come now, Yahaba, your mind and memory is as good as mine. Cast it backwards - I doubt you’ll find many instances where he actually threatened anyone from Seijou.”

“Yes, well, there must be some sort of ulterior motive motivating him. There we go; all wrapped up. Try not to… Oikawa-sama.” Yahaba faltered, having caught sight of his emperor’s face properly since he rushed into the private quarters bearing the usual medical supplies. “Oikawa-sama, are you alright?”

“Heika.” Kenma stood in the doorway. “Tana- Aobajousai no Tennō is in the inner meeting room. He says he wishes to speak to you.”

Wordlessly, Tooru rose, washcloths and spare bandages falling out of his lap and moved into the hallway. Yahaba and Kuroo automatically fell into step behind him, one worried, the other grave.

At the door to the small room, Tooru paused. “Leave me.”

Yahaba fought to keep anxiety out of his voice; the last time Tooru had sounded like this, the fourth Seijou no Tennō had died. “Oikawa-sama, I don’t think that’d be a wise-”

“Leave me.”

“Oikawa-sama.” The humor had long since bled out of Kuroo’s tone. “Are you sure?”

Tooru turned his head slightly. “I will not repeat myself a third time.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Yahaba and Kuroo bowed. Tooru waited until their footsteps had receded before he slid the door open, revealing the room’s lone occupant within.

Nothing about Iwaizumi echoed ‘retainer’ now that the deception was no longer in play; straight-backed, there was an authority to how he sat, cross-legged on the thin cushion as his knee bounced in impatience. It stopped the minute Iwaizumi spied Tooru.

“Oikawa.” Green eyes immediately honed in on the bandages, stark against the dark kimono. “Your hands-”

“You must be pleased,” Tooru’s words were glass shards. “To have accomplished your objective.”

Iwaizumi’s move to rise was immediately aborted, the other man sinking back down as his forehead creased in confusion. “Accomplished my-”

“What was it, by the way?” Tooru continued in that stilted, awful pretense of a conversational tone. Long legs folded themselves into seiza, heavily brocaded sleeves crumpling around his form as he sat back on his ankles. Gracefully, always gracefully. “To see me humiliated? To mock Seijou? To prove that our defenses are as weak as your kingdom claims they are?”

The Aobajousai emperor stared at Tooru, his hands slowly balling into fists at his side. Yet Iwaizumi didn’t protest or argue, didn’t rage or bellow. Tooru had been prepared to deal with the outrage - anger was an emotion he was all too familiar with weathering.

Instead, Iwaizumi asked, quiet and low, “Is that what you truly think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think.” _I laughed with you. I told you my weaknesses. I slept with you._ Tooru’s jaw tightened, then smoothed itself back out into blank calm. “So tell me - what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want - say whatever you want to say!”

“Then let me congratulate you then on your success.” Tooru smoothly lowered himself onto the cushion across Iwaizumi, serene and pale as a statue. “A neat trick - even I would be hard-pressed to suspect that an emperor would lower himself to such an extent for such a well-planned strategy.”

“None of this was planned nor scripted! You were the one who insisted on trading your retainer for me!”

Tooru’s lip curled into an ugly sneer. “Oh? So it’s _my_ fault then?”

“No, that’s not-” Iwaizumi huffed explosively, scrubbing at his face. “It’s no one’s fault. No one’s. Look, can’t we just-”

“Heed me. Seijou will still honor the negotiations for a peace between our two kingdoms.” The statement was emotionless, as detached as if Tooru were simply commenting on the weather. “But only if you leave Seijou immediately.”

“Oikawa-”

“ _Do not call me that._ ” Tooru took a deep breath, the fury rapidly extinguished as his voice flattened out once more. _No more weaknesses._ “The stables will give you the horse necessary for your departure. Seijou bids you its whole and official farewell, _Aobajousai no Tennō_.”

\---

Long after Iwaizumi had left, Kuroo entered the small meeting room, as quiet as a whisper.

“Oikawa-sama.”

The tactician carefully gathered the motionless emperor within his arms, carefully pillowing Tooru’s head against his shoulder. “He’s gone. Kenma and Watari escorted him to the border.”

Only then did Tooru allow himself to cry.

\---

The skies were overcast, the clouds hurried across the grey expanse by strong winds. Not the best flying weather, Watari had told Hajime once, and the emperor found it hard not to fret where he sat within the meeting tent Aobajousai had erected. So restless was he that even Kyoutani had bit out something about ‘not fidgeting’, which was saying something, given how little Kyoutani usually cared for formalities.

To his right was Matsukawa, bedecked in the attire of a retainer once more. When Hajime had stalked into his quarters, his oldest friend had already been waiting for him, a ready ear for the verbal self-flagellation Hajime had unloaded onto him in streams.

Of the pink-haired dancer that had been traded to Aobajousai, there had been no sign. Matsukawa had shrugged when Hajime had asked him about it, had merely muttered something about ‘having to return to his own emperor.” There was a wistful twist to the words, one that Hajime was becoming all too familiar with these days. He was loath to breach his retainer’s taciturnity though, especially after the huge favor Matsukawa had performed for him.

The steady sounds of large wings beating had Hajime on his feet and out of the tent, Kyoutani and Matsukawa scrambling to follow him. There was no need for torches this time, and the Seijou retinue had been reduced to five men, including the emperor himself. The time Hajime had spent in Seijou meant he could identify most of them by sight now - Kuroo, Kenma, Yahaba, and the representative who had been traded for Hajime, Hanamaki.

Seijou no Tennō himself was resplendent, the light catching in the subtle patterns of hydrangea interwoven through the pale blue silk of his kimono as he dismounted, movements smooth and economical. The ornate sleeves were long enough to obscure his hands from clear sight, and amidst the brunet hair nestled a small circlet, fine and delicately woven to look like dancing flames.

Reflexively, Hajime’s own hands went to his head, pulling off the dragon helm to hold it under one arm. He watched as Oikawa paused before he glided forward again, face inscrutable beneath his benign smile.

As the party approached, Hajime brushed off the scowl Yahaba threw in his direction, ignored the small glower that curled at Kuroo’s lower lip. A small part of him noted that Hanamaki didn’t look particularly surprised at Matsukawa’s place at Hajime’s side - if the dancer was as close to Oikawa as Matsukawa had said he was, he would have likely found out the whole truth of the affair from him.

But Hajime had no eyes for them. Seijou no Tennō was beautiful in the way one might consider a blessing from the gods. And yet, Hajime would trade hours, days, months to have the Oikawa who sniped at him, eyes crinkled with sly humor as he laughed.

“Aobajousai no Tennō.” Seijou no Tennō - no, Oikawa’s eyes remained firmly fixed on some point beneath Hajime’s nose. “I see your manners have improved since the last time we met.”

Hajime reigned in the need to point out that three days was barely enough time for a man to change his behavior. “I suppose this is good to know. Shall we get down to business?”

“That would be wise,” Oikawa murmured, brushing by him to move into the tent; a dismissive, even impolite action. Hajime set his jaw, taking a fortifying breath before following him in.

Once everyone had settled, Hajime gestured for Matsukawa to open a small jar. “Before we start.” The magic tingled through his veins, the familiar heady rush swelling within him as he crooked a finger, sending the small stones swirling into an intricate whirl that floated in the space between the two rulers. Hajime had them dance and weave amongst each other in a showy display before he directed them back into their container. “Proof that I am indeed Aobajousai no Tennō, in case it is necessary.”

“The gesture is much appreciated.” Oikawa’s acknowledgement was bland. His hands came up - he was wearing gloves, why would he wear gloves? - the left one starting to tug on the fingers of the right glove he was wearing. Hajime watched it for a few seconds, before he jerked in realization, lifting his own hand hastily to still Oikawa’s actions.

“I need no such confirmation. Please.” Even to his own ears, Hajime sounded pathetic. He steeled himself, injected iron back into his tone. “Let us not waste any more time and proceed to the treaty.”

A flicker of expression, too quick to be caught, flitted across Oikawa’s face. “Of course. Far be it for me to ‘waste’ the precious time of Aobajousai no Tennō.”

He’d screwed up again. Hajime resisted the urge to massage the worsening headache building behind his temples, bracing himself for an uneasy meeting.

Despite his reservations, the negotiation itself went without a hitch. _It can’t be this easy_ , Hajime thought. But apparently it was, both sides easily agreeing to the items brought to the table. Granted, Hajime had already pre-agreed to almost all of it as ‘Tanaka’, but, despite the unexpected revelation of Hajime’s identity, the proposed terms he had agreed on with Oikawa and his council hadn’t been changed or modified. To top it off, Oikawa was nothing but appropriate, moving through the discussions with the regal dignity that befitted his rank.

The sun was barely in the middle of the sky by the time they were done, Oikawa straightening up from where he had pressed his seal to the paper. “With this, I recognize and honor the peace between Seijou and Aobajousai, so long as the terms are kept.” With a small tilt of his head, the other emperor moved to stand, his retainers doing the same.

“Ah, Seijou no Tennō.” The words spilled out of Hajime before he could stop himself. “If… would it be at all possible for us to discuss… a small matter?”

Clumsy words, phrased in a manner what would have driven his past tutors to despair over his poor turn of phrase. They achieved their desired effect however; Oikawa paused, caught in the awkward position of half-standing, half-sitting. Strange how he could make even that look good, but Hajime was man enough to admit he was more than enamoured enough by the other ruler to possess biased judgement.

Suspicious hazel eyes searched his, and Hajime didn’t dare blink until Oikawa carefully and deliberately lowered himself back down onto the mat. “Speak.”

“In private.” Behind him, Hajime could hear the sounds of shuffling as Matsukawa and Kyoutani registered his words, the two men moving out of the makeshift space via the back flaps of the tent. “I would speak to you without company.”

He watched as Oikawa’s eyes slid to the right, then to the left, head barely moving. Then he sighed, loudly enough that it couldn’t be anything but a calculated move. “I will grant you your request.”

Yahaba’s boot had barely slipped out of the tent when Hajime, meeting Oikawa’s eyes, lowered himself to the mat, low enough that he could feel the texture of the bamboo against his forehead. His mother would have laughed to see him in so submissive a posture - “ _you have too much pride for your own good, Hajime_ ,” she would chide him. " _Even an emperor must know when he’s made an error in judgement_.”

Hajime had gotten plenty of practice in saying ‘sorry’ these days.

Oikawa was silent for so long, Hajime almost chanced peeking at him. Then, “This is the third time you’ve performed _saikeirei_ for me. I wonder: does Aobajousai no Tennō not have any dignity left within his possession at all?”

Hajime allowed the pointed goad to slide off his back, honing in on the plaintive confusion that had tinted it. “I am indeed Aobajousai no Tennō. But I am also a man, who must acknowledge when he has wronged someone. And I, Iwaizumi Hajime, have wronged you, Seijou no Tennō.” Hajime didn’t dare look up to see what the use of his private name might have done to Oikawa. “With your leave, I would explain the circumstances that led to my presence in Seijou.”

“...I grant you permission.”

Hajime straightened back into his original seating position. “At the first meeting between our two kingdom to propose a tentative peace, my council deemed it advisable to protect me. As rude as it sounds, the truth is we couldn’t accurately predict how Seijou might react to such a proposal. Thus, we couldn’t dismiss the possibility that our intent might be perceived as weakness, and that Seijou might launch a surprise attack to kill me.The concern of my council was well-meant when they suggested that I be replaced by Matsukawa, with myself taking his place. That way, I would still be privy to the discussion while being in a safe enough position to retaliate should anything go wrong.”

Meeting Oikawa’s eyes steadily, Hajime forged on. “Yes, I had agreed to the trading of men beforehand; it really was a gesture of goodwill and a way to mediate between the two of us before the actual peace convention. But I hadn’t planned on you refusing my selected man to directly pick me. To reveal our deception then would have been disastrous; you might have considered it some sort of loaded trap, or worse, have called off the treaty entirely. So I assumed it would not harm anyone if I masqueraded as a mere retainer for three weeks; such men usually slip beneath the attentions of emperors as is. Also, it would be a good way to indirectly negotiate with you and your council.”

“Everything else that happened - upon the gods, I swear, none of it was scripted.” Gripping his knees, Hajime leant forward, loading his words with as much sincerity as he could muster. “I’m not an expressive man; any of my men will tell you that. Yet, of the time I spent in Seijou, there is nothing I value more than the time I spent with you. You… you make me… I _care_ , Oikawa.” A flinch shuddered through Oikawa at the sound of his name, and Hajime squashed the worry that crept up his throat. “If you never speak to me again, at least know this: I cherish what we had, however brief it was. You also hold within your knowledge, my full name as bestowed upon me. Is that not a sign of my trust in you?”

“You betrayed _my_ trust.”

“I know.” Hope, crushed into dust. Hajime dropped his head, stared at his knuckles. “I know.”

“You infiltrated Seijou under false pretenses, and learnt of my weaknesses enough to be able to exploit them. You lied to me and deceived me. So gods help me,” Oikawa’s voice cracked, crumbled into something small and vulnerable, “why do I want to kiss you so badly?”

Hajime’s head whipped upwards, his body already half lunging out of his seat to stumble over to where Oikawa sat, trembling and pale. His arms moved to curl around Oikawa, paused -

-and Oikawa surged up, pressing himself into Hajime’s space as gloved fingers interlaced themselves behind Hajime’s neck to pull him closer to the Seijou emperor, their mouths meeting in a clash of teeth and lips.

How long they stole breath from each other, Hajime couldn’t say, elation a headier buzz in his head than magic as he pulled Oikawa even closer to him, uncaring of the expensive material he tugged at. Hands fumbled against armor and silk, limbs rearranging to lie skin against skin, sending heat searing through impatient bodies.

 _I love you,_ Hajime pressed into the soft skin below Oikawa’s jaw. _I love you_ , against the juncture between neck and clavicle. _I love you_ , just above the collar of Oikawa’s haori.

“...Tooru.”

Hajime paused, pulling back to meet Oikawa’s slightly red-rimmed eyes. “What?”

“It was given by my mother, my first name.” Oikawa’s voice wavered slightly. “It means ‘to go through’.”

“Tooru,” Hajime said it, grinning as Oikawa, no, _Tooru_ shivered at the sound of his name in Hajime’s rougher timbre. “It suits you. You’re -  what is it you say - you are ‘well named’.”

“Equal exchange, right?” A shaky, but genuine smile played around Tooru’s lips, so enticing Hajime couldn’t help but lean in to steal it. “Hajime… this can’t. We can’t. Have this.”

“Why not?”

“Be realistic. Seijou and Aobajousai may have achieved a peace, but there are still prejudices that will take years to fix, discriminations to be laid to rest. There are still things I don’t fully agree with; things I’m sure you would sooner cut off your right arm than concede. Then, there is Shiratorizawa to worry about.”

“We’ll make it work.”

“Be serious.”

“I _am_ serious.” Hajime ran his hands along Tooru’s arms. Experimentally, he tugged on the edges of the gloves, and with a sigh, Tooru obligingly allowed him to strip them off, putting up no protest as Hajime interlaced the rough fingers with his own. “You’re not wrong - there’s a lot that we must handle in the coming days ahead. And handle them we will, the way you have been doing it all the years, and the way I have been Aobajousai’s affairs. But I do not intend for this to be a short-term agreement, Tooru. If you’re willing to work at it, so am I.”

“It’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.”

“No,” Hajime agreed. “It won’t be easy. But it will be worth it, if it means I can have you. Perhaps together, we will pull through.”

“So fatally idealistic,” Tooru sighed, even as he leant in to bury his head against Hajime’s shoulder, imprinting his smile against the warm skin there.

Outside, the sun broke out from behind the clouds.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy #Iwaoiexchange once again, Hope! ʸ(ᴖ́◡ᴖ́)ʸ (Seriously though, if you don't like it, let me know and I'll throw something else together.)
> 
> Edit: OMG you guys, Ever (over at Tumblr) drew [an incredible piece of fanart (!!!)](http://evercelle.tumblr.com/post/163025614330/still-the-dusk-was-fading-into-the-obsidian-hue) for this! Do check out her amazing work! (Thank you, Ever! ♡)
> 
> Pei (on Tumblr) also did an [absolutely gorgeous fanart](http://hweiro.tumblr.com/post/169915351184/gripsyched-fic-sing-with-me-a-song-of) of Oikawa and Iwaizumi during the tanka scene. Thank you ever so much! ♡
> 
> Kudos and constructive comments are, as always, greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Mad, mad thanks to [Enzen](http://wataksampingan.tumblr.com) as per usual. I'm on Tumblr [here](http://hweiro.tumblr.com).


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